martha jones | dr john maclachlan

Dr John/Young David Tennant Mood Theme

2009-04-29T07:51:53Z

Full Preview [not dial-up friendly] | ZIP file [pics + adminconsolecodes.txt] | Installation instructions by crackified

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[ N O T E S : ]
So, on a whim I decided to make a mood theme for martha_dr_john and this is what I came up with. Obviously the character of Dr John [from the Love in the 21st Century David episode Tennant starred in] doesn't have a lot of screen-time, so to make the theme I had to get a bit creative and stretch the parameters of the 105 pics used to encapsulate what I personally think of as Dr John-era Tennant [1999-2001 or so]. Still, I think things came out quite well.

I'm not sure if anyone else would be interested in this theme for their own journal, but I thought that I'd post it publicly just in the event anyone was.

Obviously, it can be thought of a just a 'Young David Tennant' mood theme as much as 'Dr John' one as well if you'd prefer. :)

This is my very first mood theme, so I hope that you all like it. I'd love to hear any feedback on it. Oh, and I hope to make a John/Martha one sometime in the future as well -- we'll see.

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If using, please credit radiantbaby.

Please don't hotlink my images!

Dr John/Love in the 21st Century Picspam Rec

2009-04-17T04:52:56Z

Just a heads up for a wonderful Dr John/Love in the 21st Century picspam from purely_distel:

http://purely-distel.livejournal.com/145150.html

Like Spinning Plates [Snapshot #8], Part 1/1

2009-04-02T07:37:19Z

Title: Like Spinning Plates [Snapshot #8]
Author: radiantbaby
Characters/Pairings: Martha/Dr. John
[Note: Dr. John was a David Tennant character from “Love in the 21st Century”]
Word Count: 2895
Genre: Angsty, smut!fic
Warning: Light kink [bondage, slight D/s]
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Post-S3 new!Who [AU]
Summary: Martha's had a bad day and sends John a text, which reads: "Long day. Meet me at my flat after work. I want you to be waiting for me, with no clothes, in a chair, and with a blindfold on." Angsty smut ensues.
Disclaimer: ~~All your Doctor Who are belong to us~~ Sadly, I own nothing related to Doctor Who or ‘Love in the 21st Century’ et al. I am just playing around in their sandbox for a bit of fun.

Author Notes: Thank you to fourzoas and persiflage_1 for their beta-work. Any other mistakes are mine.

This is Part Eight in the group of supplemental short pieces called "Snapshots." It takes place soon after persiflage_1’s story Martha Jones, Storyteller. You can probably enjoy this piece if you’ve not read that story, but it may make more sense if you have. YMMV.

Feedback is happy-making, so please leave a word or two if so inclined [even if I am a bit slack in responding, your comments always make my day]. Concrit [and any beta-ish comments] welcomed.

===

"And this just feels like spinning plates
I'm living in cloud cuckoo land."
- 'Like Spinning Plates' by Radiohead

+ + +

The room was somewhat cold, he'd noticed.

The weather outside was turning from Summer toward Autumn, heralding the turn of the seasons toward a settling in for the Winter -- that inevitable turn of time, slipping like sand through grasping hands --

He might not have noticed the subtle shifting of the air at any other time, but there, in his self-imposed darkness, it seemed that his senses were heightened, humming with energy beneath his bare skin, grasping, yearning for something to hold onto --

He knew quickly that the cold he felt was only from a faint breeze, of course, a breeze seeping through the small crack in a nearby open window. The breeze seemed to almost lick at his skin, licking him like a lover – the lover he wanted so badly to be with him then, the lover that seemed too far away.

It left him thoughtful – thoughtful about them. He thought about the space now between them, leaving his cold body aching for her warmth. He thought about the progression of time between them, and how that might affect where they were headed on that well-worn path of life.

(And, yes, of course, he had to admit, he thought about whether they were going to stay together on that journey for a long time to come – those same thoughts that were always coupled with a worry of final separation for him).

Time.

He gave a self-deprecating chuckle as he thought of the nature of time, especially in relation to Martha's recent stories of the Doctor. He envied that power over time, truth be told, awed by the immensity of it, especially in moments such as this, when he felt so utterly powerless before it.

Then again, he thought with a sad smirk, even with all that power at the Doctor's fingertips, even he seemed to lose everyone eventually --

Then again, even he – that 'powerful' Doctor – lost Martha.

"Martha," he sighed, the name light on his breath, seeming to warm the cool air around him just a tiny bit. Shifting in his chair, he thought of her, thinking of what brought him to this point --

"Long day. Meet me at my flat after work. I want you to be waiting for me,
with no clothes, in a chair, and with a blindfold on."

They'd discussed such a scenario before, of course, speaking in hushed breathless tones after making love one evening, sharing their secret fantasies about one another. The text message from her had still surprised him, though, but more than surprise, it absolutely tantalized him.

Yes, even in the cold of the room, as the minutes ticked by, drawing things closer and closer to her arrival, the heat of desire had begun to rise steadily in his limbs, warming him that much more.

He found himself taking a perverse pleasure in the idea of Martha using him to fulfill her own needs, like a slab of flesh or a toy that only existed to please her. That pleasurable thought was tinged with a slight bit of fear, though, knowing that, yes, he could be that submissive to her if she asked, that he could willingly give her whatever she wanted, in a heartbeat –

(Oh, there was a definitely a part of him that was glad she'd probably never be one to use that weakness against him.

Still, he worked to bury it inside himself, not yet ready to be so completely vulnerable before her).

She was someone who could be so strong-willed and powerful herself, and he'd seen what a force of nature she could be in her profession, but despite this, his ever-selfless Martha was one to rarely ask for what she wanted.

Of course, he had to admit that he liked that, on one of the rare occasions that she'd succumbed to this need, it was him that she'd desired.

Yes.

The metallic teeth of the key sliding into the door, and tumbling of the locks opening, suddenly drew his attention. His senses focused immediately on the soft sounds he could make out – the brush of fabric as she hung her bag and jacket on the peg by the door, the hard clunk of her shoes bouncing against the wall in the corner where she'd tossed them, the soft padding of stockinged feet becoming louder and louder as they approached him –

Immediately his cock – previously only semi-hard with anticipation as he'd waited – hardened completely.

He could smell a hint of her perfume as she neared him, causing him to inhale her scent deeply (jasmine, he'd always loved when she wore that scent), before blowing out a deep shuddering breath when he felt the sudden weight of her on his lap straddling him.

Still dressed, the tweed of her trousers was rough as it rubbed against his cock, scratching him ever-so-lightly, a sensation he found strangely erotic, causing him to moan aloud despite himself.

"You did what I asked," she observed softly, surprise evident in her voice, as she spoke near his left ear.

Her breasts were now pressed lightly against him, nipples hard through the silk of her blouse (was she even wearing a bra?), teasing him. He rolled his hips against her. Just once. Two could play this game, two could tease. "You thought I wouldn't?"

"Wasn't sure."

"When a beautiful girl asks me to do something…" he trailed off, biting his lip, his earlier fears of vulnerability causing his heart to flutter and his stomach to tense.

"I should hope you don't do this with just any pretty girl."

"Not tonight, at least." He gave her a mischievous smile.

"You're talking like Jack, now."

"You're talking too much."

He leaned forward, nose nudging against where her shoulder met her neck, inhaling her enticing scent once again, before nipping at her skin.

"Oooh," she cooed, shifting against him, causing him to moan again. "Thought I was in charge tonight."

He laved his tongue over the light wound from his bite, only humming in response, happy for the shifting power balance between them. He wanted to keep her focused on her needs.

"Maybe I should tie you up for being naughty." He felt her fingertips slide over his shoulders and down along his arms draped over the back of the chair. He shivered, squeezing his hands –clasped behind him – his body tensing as she stretched to cover them with her own, pressing herself tighter against him. "Maybe I should tie you to this chair."

Bondage was still something they'd only toyed around with a few times since that first night she'd tied him up at his flat (that first night he'd told her that he loved her…), but it was usually initiated by him, not her. The thought of Martha taking the lead this time was enough to make him harden even more beneath her, harden to an almost painful degree. Oh yes.

Speechless, he quietly sat there as she slid her fingertips over the insides of his wrists. "Yes, I think I'll do that."

And just as he finally felt compelled to speak, her weight had suddenly shifted off him and she was gone, her footfalls heading quickly away from him. His stomach turned at the absence, the cold of the room settling on him again after her warmth dissipated, his body feeling the shock of being alone again, discarded.

He strained to hear her, only hearing very faint hints of her movement around the flat. He wondered what she was doing, what she was thinking, what she looked like. Part of him wanted to pull off the bloody blindfold, just to take in the sight of her. In the two months they'd been together, that was one desire, one compulsion, that never seemed to fade with time. She was always just so beautiful to him.

But no, tonight wasn't for him – tonight was for her.

(He still couldn't help but wonder why she'd insisted on the blindfold in the first place, as they'd not utilized one before. Perhaps, he mused, she was just as afraid of being vulnerable before him as he was.)

The sounds of her moving closer again made his breath catch, all the muscles of his body now taut and pulled tight with anticipation again for what her return might bring. He could smell her again – jasmine – from behind him and he could feel her breath hot on his back through the rungs of the chair's back. He felt something soft brush against his wrist – terrycloth, his robe sash, he knew that fabric, yes – and then felt Martha secured his wrists together and then tied them to the lowest rung of the chair.

"There, that's better," she whispered.

He sensed her moving again, and he breathed in the scent of jasmine as it made its way around him, closer and closer, until – Oh.

She had mounted him again, this time with no clothes, this time easily sliding his cock inside her wetness (was she as turned on as he was?). "Yes," he whispered, enjoying the warmth of being inside her, enjoying the warmth returning to his limbs.

Martha let out a shuddering breath, as she began to very slowly move her hips in a circle against him for a moment before coming to a standstill. " Everything seems to be spinning out of my control. I want to feel in control of something."

She sounded almost sad, almost lost. He couldn't have that. No. "You have me. I'm here."

"Yes," she breathed.

"Use me."

She gave a small laugh and he frowned a bit, knowing the words sounded awkward, like some bad dialogue from a pornographic film. He chastised himself inwardly.

"Use you?"

"Yes, that's what you want, isn't it? That's why we're here, yeah?"

"Maybe," she said quietly, shyly. No, he didn't want her to withdraw back into herself, withdraw back into the Martha who didn't take what she deserved –

"I want you to use me, Martha. I want to give you want you need."

"I don’t know what I need."

"Well, let's find out then, shall we?"

He felt her soft lips press against his forehead as she laughed again. "Yes, let's."

Martha's fingers soon pressed into his shoulders for balance as she started to move atop him once again. His eyes fluttered closed behind the dark cloth covering them, his mind trying to focus all his will on controlling his responses. It had been a few days since they'd last made love with their ever-busy schedules to contend with, and now that she was on top of him, fulfilling that dull ache of desire for her he'd held over that time, it was admittedly difficult to stay his release --

It all seemed even worse with the blindfold heightening his perception of every single movement, every shift of her body, leaving him without easy distractions, his senses overloading as they focused on the points where their bodies met – his cock inside her, her breasts (now bare) brushing against him, her hands on him –

He groaned aloud, wanting to whisper how good she felt, how much he loved her, but instead he tried to force himself to not speak, unsure whether she only wanted his silence. He figured he would speak if she spoke to him. He didn't want to break the spell. Besides, he thought with amusement, it's not as if words were coming easily to his thoughts with all the pleasurable sensations bombarding him.

"Can you see anything in that blindfold?" Martha asked, panting, as she moved against him, harder and harder.

"No, nothing," he stammered.

"Good," she said, her fingers digging even deeper into the flesh of his shoulders, wounding him, marking him. "Don't want you to see me fall apart."

He moved his mouth to speak, feeling compelled to soothe her, but felt her warm palm cover his lips, quieting him. Still holding tight to his shoulder with her other hand, she sped up her movements, almost primal now as she growled and quivered against him.

She was losing herself in front of him, and his stomach twisted within him in response, feeling suddenly sad that she would not allow him to see her in that moment (not that he would either, would he?).

He didn't want to be angry, he didn't want to be hurt, but there it was, just lingering at the edge of his emotions, at the edge of the pleasure he was feeling, taunting him with his own insecurities --

And then she broke, shattering around him, shaking with her climax, sad, desperate guttural sounds falling from her lips until, there, just there, yes, a quiet soft contented sigh followed.

Hope surged through him, hope that she was going to be all right after all, and suddenly his own release was triggered. Endorphins pulsed through him, as he groaned and whimpered against the flesh of her palm, trying to hold back (for her) and completely let go (for him) all at once, overwhelmed by that strange dichotomy, wondering how not to tip the balance too much to one side or the other –

Her hand fell away from his mouth. "Martha," he whispered, the name like a prayer on his lips.

She leaned her head against him, cheek to cheek as she nuzzled against him. He felt wetness, tears, where their skin met (was he crying or was she?), but only stayed quiet, finding himself still a bit too vulnerable, a bit unsure of what to do or say.

"Thank you," she whispered. Her hands were in his hair now, fingertips still sparking with pleasure as they moved over his sensitized skin, and then she pulled off his blindfold.

It was an absurd thought, but as soon as she came into view, unfocused as his eyes adjusted to the light, he felt that it was probably the happiest he'd ever been to see her. She was smiling serenely, tears in her eyes. She reached forward, brushing his own tears from his cheek, and then slid her thumb slowly over his lips.

"Sometimes I get so overwhelmed with all my duties and feel so completely out of my depth when dealing with this or that alien emergency. Sometimes I get so overwhelmed dealing with Mum and Dad and Tish and Leo, and their cycle of arguing, making up, and then arguing again. Sometimes I get so overwhelmed with…how much I love you," she paused, taking in a deep breath. "Just once, I just wanted to let all the spinning plates drop."

"Need me to help you clean up? One of us might step on a shard of ceramic and that'd be no good for our bare feet; we'd need stitches and all," he joked weakly, still unsure of what needed to be said, still so unsure, trying to hide behind humour –

He hated feeling helpless.

Martha leaned forward, pressing her lips against his, first almost chaste, but then quickly deepening the kiss. He struggled against his bonds, wanting to hold her, wanting to comfort her, wanting to tell her it would all be okay -- it frustrated him.

A few moments passed and then she pulled from him, now looking him deeply in the eye, looking almost right inside him it seemed, as if she could sense his thoughts. "Sometimes I just forget that I can handle it, that I can be brilliant," she said with a smirk, her words uncharacteristically confident, even though they were tinged with a shy humility.

"Yeah. And what helps you remember?"

"The way you look at me." She moved from him, his cock slipping out of her, his body aching from the separation again. She was smiling down at him, though, easing him. "Let's get you untied and clean up those broken plates, shall we? And, by clean up, I mean make some dinner, of course. I'm ravenous."

He laughed as she watched her moved behind him, bending down to work the knot on his bonds free. "I love you," he said, feeling suddenly overwhelmed with his own feelings for her, the words pushing themselves to the surface, full of passion and affection.

She stood up and pressed a light kiss to his shoulder (a bit sore from the wounds from her fingers). "I love you, too. So very much. Thank you. Again."

He stood up quickly -- ignoring his trembling limbs, tired from sitting for so long and the earlier tension of his desire – and turned around to pull her into a tight embrace. "I always want to see all of you, you know, the good and the bad. Please don't hide yourself from me," he whispered into her hair.

"I could say the same about you, mister," she said with a light tease, her lips soft as they moved against his chest with her words.

"Fair point. Let's work on that, yeah?"

"Yeah," she replied, wrapping her arms more tightly around him.

He shivered from the sudden cold whispering against his bare skin again. It was another breeze seeping through the small crack in the nearby open window, almost licking at his skin, licking him like a lover – the lover he loved so completely, now in his arms, the lover that finally seemed that much closer to him –

And just for a fleeting moment, the turn of the seasons, the turn of time, didn't worry him anymore.

New Look & New Header!

2009-02-23T05:40:05Z

Thanks so much to the ever-wonderful angelfireeast for the new header for our journal!

I thought the journal needed a new look after almost a year (!) of posting. I hope you guys like the new changes and, of course, we hope to have some more Martha/Dr John fic coming your way in the very near future*!

Thanks!

Nicole

* Don't forget the prompt post for any ideas you have for myself and persiflage_1 to write featuring the pairing!

Catalyst [Snapshot #7]

2009-01-06T04:55:07Z

Title: Catalyst [Snapshot #7]
Author: radiantbaby
Characters/Pairings: Martha/Dr. John
[Note: Dr. John was a David Tennant character from “Love in the 21st Century”]
Word Count: 3405
Genre: PWP smut!fic
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Post-S3 new!Who [AU]
Summary: Martha as voyeur.
Disclaimer: ~~All your Doctor Who are belong to us~~ Sadly, I own nothing related to Doctor Who or ‘Love in the 21st Century’ et al. I am just playing around in their sandbox for a bit of fun.

Author Notes: Thank you to persiflage_1 for her beta-work. Any other mistakes are mine.

This is Part Seven in the group of supplemental short pieces called “Snapshots.” It takes place during the time between persiflage_1’s story Home Is Where the Heart Is [Snapshot # 4] and my story A Day in February [Snapshot #5]

You can probably enjoy this piece if you’ve not read either of those stories, but it may make more sense if you have. YMMV.

Feedback is happy-making, so please leave a word or two if so inclined [even if I am a bit slack in responding, your comments always make my day]. Concrit [and any beta-ish comments] welcomed.

===

“Are you sitting comfortably? Then I'll begin.”

Of course, John’s tone sounds rather less posh than the classic Listen with Mother programme; perhaps more like that of a bawdy blaggard, instead –

But that is John, Martha thinks, naughty as ever.

Martha shifts in response to his query – trembling thighs on either side of his head, her knees pressing against the soft cotton of the pillows beneath her -- and nervously lowers herself more from her perch over him, putting more weight onto his (eager, beaming) face --

“Yes,” she whispers, feeling the pressure of his soft lips and warm mouth against her, causing a slight quiver to quake through her like an electric current of white-hot lust.

(She closes her eyes against the sensation, feeling a bit embarrassed by her reaction, honestly, and even more embarrassed by this new position for them.)

John moans from beneath her, though, the sound now muffled by her intimate flesh. He seems pleased from what she can gather, his breathing deeper and deeper as his chest rises and falls before her, but that doesn’t quell her sudden fears of smothering him, making her nerves peak and her senses more alert.

She knows some men love being smothered in such a way, of course -- from her lengthy conversation with John on the topic earlier -- and that such a technique is even something he, himself, wishes to experience later with her, but tonight is not that night --

No, not just yet.

Tonight they are experimenting in stages.

As Martha settles completely against him, John’s tongue flicks out and draws itself languidly against her clit before pushing itself within her, distracting her. She can feel a resultant ecstatic tremor course through her limbs and, then, just as suddenly, her reticence about trying out his suggested position quickly begins to fade into the background of the purrs and moans now dropping from her lips.

Martha opens her eyes to watch John – one of his hands moving along his chest and belly, lightly stroking the skin for a few moments there, before it sinks into the dark curls of hair between his legs. With a small gasp against her, his mouth seemingly getting warmer, he then slips his fingers around his cock, grasping himself, and begins to slowly move his hand up and down his cock. His other hand then slides down his body -- more quickly -- to meet the first and curls around his balls to lightly cup and knead them with near-trembling fingers.

His mouth begins to work on her in earnest now – sucking, nipping and licking at her sex hungrily, as his hands begin to work himself into his own throes of pleasure. Martha tries to concentrate on the myriad of sensations she is feeling, hoping the intensity of her bliss will remove her thoughts from any lingering fears and insecurities –

Once focused, she is surprised that she can feel the hardness of his nose pressing lightly against her perineum, surprising her with its stimulation, as her body writhes against him. She can also feel it as it slides a bit inside her, all thin and angular, when she shifts just so, penetrating her sex softly as it complements the ministrations of his lips and tongue on her.

Neither experience is something she expects, but she is pleasantly surprised by the enjoyable results, making little mental notes to delve into later, her analytical mind still active even in times like this.

She is soon precariously balanced over John’s mouth, tentatively leaning forward ever so slightly to tightly grip the pillows they’d set up beside his torso for balance and more freedom of movement against his mouth and face. She is almost pressing her breasts against his belly just moments after that, the hardened peaks of her nipples lightly brushing against the light dusting of hair there, as she slowly leans even more forward to experiment with new angles and positions.

Trembling against him, she lets wave after wave of pleasure make their way through her, causing her body to even arch backward a few times as sudden bolts of pleasure wrack her body, shaking her like a sheet in a strong wind, completely out of control.

Leaning back, her hands shift to her sides. She thinks she might get some reprieve this way, in this position, but his nose presses hard against her again and his tongue flicks against the nub of her clit with relentless flittering licks, and she knows that reprieve is much too far out of her reach.

Succumbing to her pleasure, she finds herself listening intently to the sound of his moans beneath her and revels in the feeling of the vibration of his contented humming. She looks down at him, his hands on his sex, moving faster and faster, watching him pleasuring himself before her through a half-lidded gaze of ecstasy –

She remembers, quite vividly, how she’d first watched him pleasuring himself just the night before and how utterly erotic that experience was for her.

She remembers it because it is why she is there now, the catalyst to this new horizon in their relationship.

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About 20 Hours Before

Martha never likes to take work home with her. It is something that she promises herself over and over that she will never do (again) and yet here she is, well, doing it again.

She is good at the justifications she tells both herself and John, and she wonders how she ever became so good at convincing herself that a bad situation is in fact good and that she’s happy about something when she really isn’t.

Then again, most of her time with the Doctor had likely taught her that skill, truth be told –

She supposes she then ‘learned from the best.’

On this particular evening, John is already in bed, having gone to sleep a good hour or so before. He has an earlier morning the next day than she does and even if he’s not saving the world from alien invasions, saving curmudgeonly old Mr. Hutchinson from Lancashire from more pain from his gallbladder with a Cholecystectomy seems awfully brilliant right now – at least from where she is sitting.

(Sometimes she misses those smaller things, actually – helping one person at a time, instead of the emotional and physical exhaustion of working to save the entire universe at once.

Sometimes she envies John’s simpler life.)

Martha makes some final notes on some of the pieces of research she is working on, collating the data from a recent virus outbreak in Tibet with what looks like a disease that might be alien in origin (according to some not-yet-confirmed UNIT sources). It is a medical situation that, if it doesn’t remain carefully contained, she will be deployed to fly out to the infected area and treat the carriers –

She is hoping this will not be the case, for as much as she likes her medical duties, flying so far from John for an indeterminable length of time is something she never looks forward to.

She sighs thinking of her lover, curled asleep in the bed – their bed. They have only been living together for two weeks now, but she still hopes – perhaps in vain -- that the excitement of having him just down the hall all the time will never dull.

She coos as she imagines curling up against his warm supine body, wrapping her arms around him and nuzzling up against him as the sleep, or him curling up against her from behind, holding her in a protective and affectionate embrace, and sighing softly in her ear.

In the cold of the kitchen, where she is working at the table with papers strewn all over the dining table, her bed has rarely seemed so inviting.

She closes her laptop, putting her notes away in her briefcase, and then shuts off the lights in the kitchen and living room, to quietly make her way down the hall to the bedroom, so as to not disturb John. As she nears though, she can hear quiet moans and whimpers coming from the room and for a moment she worries if John might be having a nightmare or an otherwise fitful sleep. As she gets even closer, though, she can tell that they sound more like moans of pleasure and not of pain.

Surprised, she quietly inches closer to the door, peeping around its edge to look into the dim light of the room to fully assess the situation.

There, sprawled on the bed, with his skin almost incandescent from the moonlight shining in from a nearby window, lay John nude with one hand laid flat against his chest and the other moving slowly up and down his hard sex.

Martha has seen him nude many times before, of course, but in the many months they’ve been together, she’s never actually seen him masturbate alone.

Before they moved into their new home, when she would be at his flat or he at hers, the sexual situations they shared were usually together. Still, now that they’re living together, she supposes it is probably inevitable that they’d discover one another in such a private (ecstatic) moment, that it is probably part of what it is to live with your lover day to day --

It still takes her by surprise, no matter how logical it seems.

The surprise is pleasant in nature, though. Seeing John nude now before her -- touching himself, pleasuring himself --Martha feels a throbbing begin between her legs, burning at her core before its spindly fingers of arousal start to reach throughout the rest of her body like the blood that flows through her veins.

Part of her immediately wants to go right back down the hall and wait until she thinks he might be finished, unsure of what he would think of her watching him and knowing that if the situation were reversed, she would honestly feel quite a bit embarrassed about him watching her.

Another part of her though – a stronger part, actually – keeps her right there watching him, as if her feet are trapped in hard clay and her body is frozen to the spot, letting her succumb to being absolutely riveted.

In all honesty, despite the many times she has seen his nudity, rarely does she have the opportunity to observe her lover so fully, so overtly, where she doesn’t need to feel ashamed about being caught giving him such lingering glances.

She’s always considered him to be quite beautiful, from day one, despite his vehement protestations to the contrary, but at the same time, she always feels a bit self-conscious when she just wants to, well, ogle him a bit.

(Of course, she smiles to herself as she remembers how she often gets a surreptitious gaze in here and there anyway – whether it be watching him standing nude facing his wardrobe as he chooses his clothes for the day or watching him as he closes his eyes while washing his hair when they shower together.

Still, it is never anything so delicious as this.)

Martha feels another surge of arousal flutter through her limbs, stronger this time, more insistent, and she knows what she needs to do.

As quietly as she can, she opens the button of her trousers, slides the zip down, and slips a hand deep into her knickers in response. Dipping a finger inside herself, she draws the wetness she finds there upward, using it as a silken lubricant as she begins to rub her clit. It already feels so wonderful, her own sexual need growing faster and faster inside her, causing her to throb and ache with desire. She lifts her other hand to bite a knuckle to quiet her moans, hoping to stay undetected by John.

She knows that she can just walk right in there to him, pull off her clothes and mount him. It might take him by surprise, of course, but he would welcome it, always welcome her, always desire her (which always humbles her).

In this stolen moment, though, she wants this more – she wants to watch him bring himself pleasure, to orgasm, to see what he does when he doesn’t know she is watching him –

Her eyes rove over his body, angled away from her at the door, with his head near her. She watches with a bit of awe the little twitches of his body as his movements speed up and hears the indecipherable words he is whispering as he presses his eyes closed and lifts his hips to meet his fist again and again.

She can almost sense his body tensing from where she is standing, sinews of muscles stretching tight in his thighs and arms as the motion of his hips becomes more erratic and his whispers take on a more staccato, urgent rhythm.

She leans further into the room, working her own self in tandem to him, as she tries to catch any floating words he might be speaking, trying to somehow be some little part of his fantasies.

Martha can feel the satin of her knickers almost sticking to her now, her wetness soaking them through from her arousal, as she works one finger quickly against her clit and two others inside herself – their penetration matching stroke per stroke with John’s movements, imaging it’s him moving inside her.

His breathing is getting louder now, deep moans resonating from him, moans that he seems to try to quiet by biting his swollen bottom lip. She wonders for a moment if she is getting louder as well, and bites down harder on her knuckle just in case.

She watches the hand that was cupping his balls move to frantically grasp for something at his side and then she sees what it was seeking, a piece of cloth, a towel -- oh, he is about to come, she thinks excitedly, he’s about to have his orgasm.

Martha moves her fingers even faster against herself, moving at the rapid speed of her lover, his own hand almost just a blur now as he moves impossibly fast over himself. The towel is resting on his thigh now, gripped tightly by his free hand, and his back begins to arch upward, even higher than before, a delightful tension tightening even more throughout his body, obviously ready to snap at any moment like a whip.

Martha eagerly wants to climax along with him, but while she knows she is close, she is not sure she is as close as he is, so she takes her knuckle from her mouth and roughly shoves that hand in her blouse -- popping off a button or two, she doesn’t care, not now, not important – and into her bra to pinch and pull at her nipple.

A deep guttural groan from John draws all of her attention and she watches as he releases into his hand and onto the towel in long, thick, sticky strands, his body writhing against the mattress as his orgasm hits him. He looks so amazing, so beautiful, so sexy to her in that moment – trembling, his mouth open, lips wet, his breathing gasping and unsteady – that her own orgasm hits her suddenly --

She closes her eyes as her climax hits her in wave after wave and it seems as if she is moaning more and more with each ripple through her body, trembling, her fingers now soaked with her come as she feels her muscles push and pull against them, wanting them deeper still, wanting more. She leans a bit against the doorway, trying her best to stay standing and not let her knees buckle, trying to prolong to pleasure just a little bit more, trying to ease out each wonderful contraction into more wonderful bliss, yes, trying to –

“Martha?”

Martha quickly blinks her eyes open, the last of her movements now stopped, as everything seems to suddenly stand still around her. She can feel her heart racing, the sound of its beating a loud thud in her ears, but she knows it isn’t from just her climax, it’s from him, he has caught her, yet she can only stand there silent, frozen –

“Martha?” he repeats, a (naughty) smile widening on his face as he sits up, all disheveled and shaky himself, “Were you watching me?”

“I…I…” It is all she can manage – a terrible, ridiculous, childish stammer. All of her thoughts seem to still be focused on the three fingers still lingering in her knickers instead, however motionless they may be now. The ability to actually form coherent words, on the other hand, well, that seems like a fairy tale to her.

John lightly wipes himself off with his towel, tossing it aside before swinging his long legs over the side of the bed and making his way the few steps to stand in front of her. He is soon looking down at her -- the heat of his body seeming to just roll off him, kissing her own skin with its warmth, and his eyes filled more with amusement than any judgment.

He reaches slowly forward, cheekily slipping his hand into her trousers and rubbing the outside of her knickers, caressing her fingers with his own through the soaked fabric there.

“I thought I heard you come,” he whispers, his voice deliciously gravelly. She trembles as he draws his knuckle hard and slowly along the crotch of her knickers. “Now I can feel for sure that you have.”

“Sorry,” she manages to say. She is not sure how she got it out, but somehow the word had started to repeat itself again and again in her head the minute he stood before her -- like a mantra, like a punishment, a telltale heart – and it seemed to have just now made its way up through her throat and out of her mouth.

He leans forward, pressing his mouth against her neck, dotting the skin there with butterfly kisses. “No need to be sorry,” he pauses as he moves his kisses closer and closer to her ear. “I’m surprised, but pleasantly so,” he adds, taking her earlobe between his teeth.

The sensations are overwhelming, and with her body already quivering from her recent climax and his new ministrations, she finds herself practically falling against him, a long moan escaping her lips. He wraps an arm around her, holding her up, holding her to him.

“Was going to bed,” she whispers in broken sentences, “saw you, wanted to watch.”

“So my lover likes to watch, does she?” he asks with a tease and even though she is against him, her arms allowed little movement, trapped by his embrace, his words, the memory, cause her to start rubbing herself again.

“Yes,” she hisses.

“Did you like the show?”

“Yes.”

He pushes roughly at the waistband of her trousers with one of his hands, letting them pool on the floor at her feet, before his hand joins hers, slipping past the elastic of her knickers to penetrate her with searching fingers while she rubs her clit with her own hand.

She is already close again – his fingers, her fingers, his body, her body, everything swirling together as one of his arms holds her against him, keeps her upright.

They are like one.

“Would you like to watch again?” he asks, his fingers moving even faster in and out of her, going so deep, so very deep, just like she wants, just like she needs, just like –

“Yes, yes, yes,” she repeats, gasping, another climax surging through her suddenly as he holds her, her lover holds her, and pleases her through every shudder of her body.

He pulls her to the floor, withdrawing his hand as he pulls her into his lap and she feels so boneless now, like a rag doll, as she leans against him, still shaking in the aftermath.

He begins to stroke her hair, just light caresses, letting her just sit there quietly with him for several minutes, until he finally speaks, the rumble of the words in his chest feeling somehow so lovely against her. “I have an idea, for tomorrow night, if you still want to watch again, if you want to try something new.” He pulls his fingers into his mouth, the ones he’d used to touch her, sucking against them lightly, sucking her very essence. “Yes, I have quite the plan.”

Making Christmas Brighter [Snapshot #6]

2008-12-25T08:39:10Z

Title: Making Christmas Brighter [Snapshot #6]
Author: radiantbaby
Characters/Pairings: Martha/Dr. John
[Note: Dr. John was a David Tennant character from “Love in the 21st Century”]
Word Count: 1340
Genre: Romantic fluff
Rating: G
Spoilers: Post-S3 new!Who [AU]
Summary: Between medical school and saving the universe, Martha Jones hasn’t had a proper Christmas in years. So, when John gets called in to perform a last minute surgery on their first Christmas Eve together, things aren’t looking promising. Will this Christmas follow that same unfortunate pattern?
Disclaimer: ~~All your Doctor Who are belong to us~~ Sadly, I own nothing related to Doctor Who or ‘Love in the 21st Century’ et al. I am just playing around in their sandbox for a bit of fun.

Author Notes: Thank you to persiflage_1 for her beta-work. Any other mistakes are mine.

This is Part Six in the group of supplemental short pieces called “Snapshots.” It takes place during the time between my story A Thousand Pieces [Snapshot #1] and persiflage_1’s story Home Is Where the Heart Is

You can probably enjoy this piece if you’ve not read either of those stories, but it may make more sense if you have. YMMV.

Feedback is happy-making, so please leave a word or two if so inclined [even if I am a bit slack in responding, your comments always make my day]. Concrit [and any beta-ish comments] welcomed.

===

Martha wrapped her coat more tightly around her as she made her way to her flat, watching as her breath curled in frozen clouds before her, and the sky seemed more and more gray with a tease that it might just be about to snow.

She had hoped to spend a lovely Christmas Eve with John – their first – but he’d called shortly before she’d left her job at UNIT for the day to tell her the heartbreaking news – he was called in for an emergency surgery and he wasn’t sure when he would get home that night (though, sadly, he said he was sure it wouldn’t be before midnight).

So, with John unavailable to give her the usual drive home, it was a night home alone on the train for her, surrounded by families eager for the upcoming holiday and frantic last-minute shoppers buying gifts. She thought that she should feel happy for all of the excited people around her, but, despite herself, it only made her feel more sad.

She honestly didn’t know why she was feeling so disappointed. She’d not had a proper Christmas for several years now between medical school, her adventures with the Doctor, and the whole nightmare of walking the Earth while the Master reigned.

Even before the Doctor had even come into her life, though, she was always busy at the hospital, or studying for one exam or another, and, honestly, there was a part of her that liked the distraction – she hated to admit it, but being alone on Christmas always hurt that little bit.

Sure, she had her boisterous family who filled in the gaps of loneliness with their laughing, gossiping, fighting, and loving, but there was still an empty hole in her heart when she would trudge home and put on some pajamas, eat some ice cream, and play CDs of Frank Sinatra singing Christmas songs (the latter, a bit of a guilty pleasure of hers – the romance of Ol’ Blue Eyes always stirred her heart strings, even in the throes of melancholy).

Still, so very much had changed for her now that John had been in her life for seven months. They were in the midst of looking for a home together after a beautiful trip to Edinburgh, on the verge of starting the new adventure of (what just might be) a long life together, and things truthfully seemed that they couldn’t be any better.

Even months after meeting him, Martha could still feel that little lightness in her step or the racing of her heart at the thought of John and how everything seemed that little brighter and more optimistic with him around.

Of course, this also meant that she’d harbored some dreams about their first Christmas together. Nothing she said out loud, of course, as it all felt a bit childish, but still little daydreams she would let her mind wander off into, smiling in a daze from time to time at work.

Of all of the little fantasies she’d had, though, she never anticipated that John would be trapped at the hospital most of the night.

Still, such is the life of a doctor, Martha knew that all too well, and she mused perhaps that was why she never let herself get too excited even about this Christmas, never even decorated her flat or bought a tree. She had a bad feeling her daydreams would be doused by the starkness of reality.

And now, with Christmas finally upon her, most of her belongings were being packed away in boxes anyway and life felt in too much of a transition right now to worry about a silly holiday that she honestly hadn’t paid much attention to since her teens.

+ + +

Martha pulled out her mobile, flipping it open before scrolling to John’s name. “Thinking of you,” she sent in a text to him, suddenly feeling his absence more than she cared to admit.

(Watching couples walking by laughing hand in hand was certainly not helping matters).

Her phone chirped back quickly in response – “Always thinking of you. Are you snug at home yet with some hot chocolate?”

She smiled at the thought of putting on some warm pyjamas and a sipping from a nice mug of hot chocolate. “What a lovely idea! No, almost home, just around the block. And you?”

“Making Christmas brighter and fixing broken hearts, I hope.”

She laughed. “Is that how you are describing heart surgery these days? You’re such a great doctor.”

“I do my best. Anyway, must rush. I love you.”

“I love you.”

Martha flipped her phone closed and made her way up the stairs to her flat. For some reason everything felt that much more cold and lonely as she approached the door, the flickering bulb above her was starting go out for good, and everything was seemingly so silent. Still, all around her was the scent of pine – of the Christmas trees, likely bought and decorated by her neighbors.

The smell of Christmas, she mused. A smell she honestly missed sometimes.

She frowned a bit as she pushed the key into the lock, trying to make herself look forward instead to an evening of reading a nice book, wearing some cozy pyjamas, and, as John had suggested, indulging in some hot chocolate.

Yes, that would be good, she thought. A quiet night after all the recent stress and insanity of work. John would be there eventually and he would wake her with a kiss and all would be right with the world --

Yes.

She warily pushed open the door and flipped on the light. To her utter surprise, though, not only did her living room light flicker on, but so did strings of colorful lights hanging all around the room and, most brightly in the corner, lights curled around a beautifully decorated Christmas tree.

“Oh my – ” she said out loud, shocked, dropping her keys on the table by the door as she shut it behind her.

“You like it I hope?” John said, stepping out from the kitchen with a nervous smile on his face, much to her delight.

“I…I love it,” she replied, happy tears beginning to prick her eyes.

John’s nervous smile quickly grew into a big loopy and joyous grin, his whole face lighting up with her response. “I just…wanted our first Christmas together to be special,” he said, shuffling his foot in front of him a bit shyly.

“I thought you had to work? The Smythe surgery?” Martha, despite wanting to run and fling herself into her lover’s arms, was still frozen to the spot by the door, so completely overwhelmed by his gesture.

“Yes, well, that may have been a bit of a white lie,” he said, scratching the scruff at the back of his neck. “I’ve actually been here for a few hours decorating everything. Your landlord even helped me get the tree up the stairs after watching me struggling with it. I’m amazed you didn’t see all the shoots of pine on the stairs from when I, well, sort of fell there, dropping the tree rather clumsily at one point before I had his help, but then he might have taken pity on me and cleaned it up.”

The vision of John flat on his back on the stairs, all arms and legs flailing about and looking as if a Christmas tree was mauling him gave her a bit of a chuckle. “Dr. John MacLachlan, what am I going to do with you?”

“I was hoping,” he paused, looking up at the mistletoe hanging in the doorway to the kitchen, and then back at her with a mischievous glimmer in his eye, “I might get a kiss.”

“Oh, you’ll get more than that, mister,” Martha said, finally finding her feet as she quickly made her way across the room to him, letting him wrap her in his arms and give her a long and languorous kiss.

Yes, perhaps this Christmas wasn’t going to be so bad after all.

Ten/Martha/Dr. John Graphics Bonanza!

2008-12-17T06:40:58Z

radiantbaby here.

First off, I would like to apologize for the sad lack of Dr John-verse fic as of late. I've been suffering many bouts of writer's block and creating new stories has been more challenging than usual. :(

I do have something simmering on the backburner that I hope to have finished in the near future with persiflage_1 (for a prompt from tardis_mafia -- yes, we haven't forgotten you!) and I am hoping to attempt some sort of Holiday story for John and Martha, but we'll have to see if that actually comes to fruition (keep your fingers crossed!).

Anyway, I do have a few graphic-oriented offerings to anyone who might be interested. I was making a new John/Martha/Ten header for my personal journal (hence the blue -- I didn't want to have to change up my color scheme too much!) and then got carried away and made some related icons and wallpapers. I figured some of you might want to see/use them, so I decided to post them here.

So, erm, enjoy!

(Oh, and be sure to credit me with any icons or the header if you use them)

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Created with angelamaria's Icon Table Generator @ Bauble

Header:

[700 x 374]

Wallpapers:

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Again, please be sure to credit me if you use the header or any of the icons. Oh, and feedback is love. Thanks!

Moar John/Martha Wallpapers

2008-10-21T08:15:55Z

radiantbaby here.

So, yet again, I got bored with my wallpapers and decided to make a new John/Martha one.

Behind the cut are the fruits of my labor, if anyone should be interested. I was mostly just experimenting with layers again (which I am far from mastering), but I think they turned out pretty decently.

Also, in my fanart folder I found a fic banner I'd made for "Always Running," but forgot to post it. So I am also posting that here and then I'm going to update the post with the banner. Again, not my best work, but fun to make.

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And the fic banner for "Always Running":

I hope you like them!

Please be sure to tell me if there is anything wrong with the links or if you need a different size (which I think I can do!).

A Day in February [Snapshot #5]

2008-10-15T09:07:54Z

Fighting a bit of writer's block at the moment (in fact, this story was meant to be much longer -- a "week", not a "day" -- but I was struggling too much with it), so apologies for the delay in posting. I hope you guys enjoy it.

-----------------------

Title: A Day in February [Snapshot #5]
Author: radiantbaby
Characters/Pairings: Martha/Dr. John
[Note: Dr. John was a David Tennant character from “Love in the 21st Century”]
Word Count: 4148
Genre: Romance, Smut
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Post-S3 new!Who [AU]
Summary: A day in the life of Martha and Dr. John. Experiments in POV. Crossover of Doctor Who and “Love in the 21st Century”
Disclaimer: ~~All your Doctor Who are belong to us~~ Sadly, I own nothing related to Doctor Who or ‘Love in the 21st Century’ et al. I am just playing around in their sandbox for a bit of fun.

Author Notes: Thank you to persiflage_1 for her beta-work. Any other mistakes are mine.

This is Part Five in the group of supplemental short pieces called “Snapshots.” It takes place during the time between persiflage_1’s stories Home Is Where the Heart Is and Trusting You.

You can probably enjoy this piece if you’ve not read either of those stories, but it may make more sense if you have. YMMV.

Feedback is happy-making, so please leave a word or two [even if I am a bit slack in responding, your comments always make my day].

===

[1]

John | Scent

I can still smell her on me, her scent between my fingertips, almost barely there but still insinuating itself into the deep cracks and swirling crevices there until it finally moves beneath my skin like the blood hot in my veins.

Perhaps it was from the rush we were in this morning. A fervent morning tryst – that neither of us wanted to end – didn't lend itself easily to enough time to shower, enough time to wash her away before resurfacing back into Real Life and Responsibilities.

Perhaps that is why she has been on my mind so very much today – my subconscious mind is bringing her to the forefront of my thoughts every time I catch just that simple scent of her. It is like memories the morning the scent of dew might bring of childhood or certain foods might bring of fussy aunts in their kitchens.

It is the scent that I find so intoxicating about her, my beautiful Martha -- the scent that defines her to me on such a primal level that I can’t even dare to render it into words, but instead I simply desire it like a drug that draws me back again and again.

I can feel my stomach knotting, fighting me as I approach the sink. As much as there are parts of me that struggle with it this afternoon, I must wash my hands. I am no longer able to simply sit with my memories in my office as I (futilely attempt to) pour over medical reports today, but instead I must answer the call for shining knives in gloved hands, bright lights, and exposed beating hearts in chests that are not hers.

I plunge my hands into the water, pressing the soap into those same crevices and cracks her scent has invaded, but I know that it is too late. She invaded those cracks in my soul ages ago, pressing herself against my very insides and caressing my own exposed beating heart from within before I’d even known what had hit me.

I wipe my hands dry on the towel nearby, smirking at the imagined futility of ridding myself of her, until a voice calls me back, leaving me focused and alert again:

“He’s ready, Dr. MacLachlan. He’s in operating theatre #3, just on the left.”

+ + +

[2]

Martha | Passion

I love it when John reads to me, I must confess. It’s one of those simple little things, but I still do.

In the interest of full disclosure, I didn’t get many stories read to me as a child growing up. Mum and Dad were almost always too busy wrangling Tish – who was, as always, a bit of a wild child – and then later Leo (who was also a bit of a handful by all accounts), to give me that sort of attention. Mind you, I had mostly thought it was alright at the time, in that way you don’t miss something you’d never known, but the first time someone read me a story as an adult, I realized, quite sadly, what I’d really missed out on.

Strangely enough, the Doctor was the first person to read to me again. It was back when we were trapped in 1969 together and, with our television quite often on the blink, he would read me whatever books we could get a hold of – anything from Homer’s The Odyssey to the poetry of William Blake -- to pass the long hours of the night after I’d come home from my job.

Sometimes, on our scratchy, ratty old couch, I would just relax in his arms – even falling asleep on several occasions – and find myself getting a bit lost in the soft cadence of his voice as he told classical stories and intoned beautiful poetry.

I was surprised to find that he had such a lovely voice, actually – that is, when he wasn’t shouting vaingloriously at aliens or speaking far too frenetically (with fast and complicated words that even I found challenging) for nearly anyone but him to understand.

It was probably one of the few ways I ever actually felt close to the Doctor back in those days. It was as if somehow, deep beneath the words he was reading and the (almost) reticent embraces, that I actually meant something to him. It was a bit silly, I know, but it kept me going, you know? So many times the Doctor just seemed so utterly far away, but during those times on that old couch – the two of us just relaxing with one another – he finally seemed almost in reach.

And then there was John.

I had been at John’s flat helping him pack for our recent move when I’d found his own collection of books. At first glance, they seemed to be your average medical books and journals that many doctors keep at hand for reference, but hidden back on some of the less exposed shelves were volumes of poetry. Admittedly a bit nonplussed by my discovery, I asked him about them and he seemed immediately uncomfortable, almost embarrassed even – a blush coloring the tips of his ears, which I tend to find oddly adorable.

It took a few moments of coaxing, but he soon admitted that he was quite a big fan of poetry. He even made a few chagrinned remarks about his ‘reputation as a bloke’ being in question, which made both of us laugh as John – no matter how hard he tries to convince people otherwise – is really so much more than just ‘an ordinary bloke’ (whatever that is, really).

I mean, I may have only been around men just a few times before John, but I know enough to know that he is different – not as different as the Doctor (being an alien and all), of course, but definitely different.

Anyway, much to his apparent surprise, I’d asked him to read to me some time. I have to admit that I’ve missed those times with the Doctor, and while I haven’t spoken to him again for nearly a year now, sometimes I crave such simple intimacy again. It’s strange when words can be like blankets -- warming and calming you in the evening as the world around you swirls in chaos -- but
I needed that comfort again, and I had a feeling that John could give me that gift as well.

Surprisingly, I discovered quite quickly, the passion John brings to kisses and caresses was the same as he brings to words. In fact, I was almost mesmerized by him when he first read to me, as if I’d tapped into some deep part of him that had lain dormant for a long, long time. It sounds ridiculous, but he seemed to almost stroke each word with his tongue, feeling it in his mouth before pushing it sensually past his lips.

His melodious accent is honestly enough to break me apart most days, but the deeply resonant, sultry tones he reads to me in is an intensely erotic experience unto itself.

It is also like seeing a brief glimpse into his soul and somehow – strangely, inexplicably – it always makes me feel so much more relaxed and at peace. Unlike the Doctor, John is actually in reach in those moments – perhaps more in reach than ever, really – and I find myself clinging to him as the tempest of worries and stress spins around me, but leaves me untouched in his arms by the armor of his words.

It’s funny, they say that I once saved the world with words, but in an odd way, John saves me with them.

Alone in our new home, awaiting his call, I find myself drawn to John’s shelves of books – the volumes of poetry more prominently displayed now. I run my fingertips over the spines – Keats, Shelley, Byron, Coleridge, and even old William Blake – as I revel momentarily in my connection to him.

It is a connection that both frightens and strengthens me, perhaps more than I will ever fully realize or even tell him, but it is somehow alive in the poetry within these books, alive when I see his soul in those stolen moments and I know, with great humility, how much he truly loves me.

My phone buzzes in my pocket and I pull it out, flipping it open with one hand as I caress a volume of Blake’s poetry in front of me with the other. Such a different time, I think as I remember the words within read by that other Doctor who’d had such an impact on my life and then I speak:

“Hello, sweetie. I was just about to give you a call. Are you on your way home?”

+ + +

[3]

John | Phone

I cradled my head in my hands, elbows bent and pressed against the hard wood of the desk, as I sat in the office that evening. I’d had plans involving a nice quiet night at home with Martha, to be honest – plans that didn’t involve me being at the hospital still.

Quiet nights were something of a luxury of late, something we’d unfortunately rarely had the chance to experience in the month since we’d moved into our new place. Between both of our hectic work schedules and the two of us organizing things at home during any free time we could find, the time for simple quiet moments was falling through the cracks a bit.

(In fact, nights that could have been spent with Martha in my arms, just simply enjoying one another, were instead often being spent in the bathroom, repairing some of the grout in the bath, or in the living room, moving furniture around this way and that to get things just right.)

I had hoped tonight would be different, but after filling in at the last minute on a surgery late this afternoon for another doctor, it looked more like I was going to be stuck at the hospital in my office for a while longer, left reviewing the notes on the surgery and awaiting lab results that couldn’t be left until the morning.

I pulled out my phone with a sigh, frowning as I simply stared at Martha’s name on the phone for a moment before pressing the send key to ring her.

“Hello, sweetie. I was just about to give you a call. Are you on your way home?” she answered.

I blew out a deep breath, my stress calming a bit at the sound of her voice. “Unfortunately it looks as if I’ll be here another hour or two. I had to take the Hughes surgery today and that lasted a little later than expected. I still need to get the results on a few tests from the lab tech and write up my report before I leave. I’ve got most of the report written, but the lab results are taking quite a bit of time due to the backlog from some problems they were having down there earlier. It’s going to be a long night, it seems.”

“Oh, John. I was looking forward to some nice one-on-one time tonight and I know you were too.”

“Yeah,” I groaned in annoyance, tapping my pen on the desk to try and help alleviate some frustration. “I’m sorry.”

“No need. It’s what we do, you know that.”

“Yeah, I do. Of course, I do. Some times are just more difficult than others, I suppose.”

“So,” Martha began, her voice starting to take on a more sultry tone that I’d begun to easily recognize, “you said you had at least an hour or two?”

“I did.”

“And are you alone in your office?”

“I am.” I smirked.

“And is your door locked?”

“It’s not, but that is easily remedied,” I replied, my smirk easing into a full grin as I hopped to my feet to cross the room and turn the lock on the door. I then sat down on the couch nearby. “What are you up to?”

“Just a few ideas about how to pass the time.”

“Really?” I asked, feeling myself begin to harden in anticipation of where the conversation might be headed. I reached down and quickly brushed my fingertips against myself and hissed from the surge of pleasure.

“Yes, really. Have you ever, I mean, have you ever had – ”

“Phone sex?” I finished for her.

She gave a nervous laugh. “Exactly.”

“Hmm, if I have, it’s been a long time and I don’t remember it. And you?”

“Never,” she replied, her timidity about the situation apparent in her voice.

“So, are you propositioning me, Dr. Jones?”

“I’m afraid so, Dr. MacLachlan.”

“Then I suppose we should go ahead and get the clichés out of the way first – what are you wearing?”

“Pajamas actually.”

“The cotton ones?”

“Yes, the ‘unsexy’ cotton ones.” I could just about imagine the self-conscious frown she likely had on her face.

“Oh, you know how much I love those – ”

“I don’t understand why, but yes, yes I do know.”

“An enigma wrapped up in a mystery, I am.” Winston Churchill said that once, if I remember correctly – I always thought it was clever.

“More like a bit pretentious at the moment, I should think.”

“Oh, you love it.”

“I love you,” she corrected, laughing.

“And I love you, but you know what else I would love?”

“Enlighten me.”

“If you slipped your hand inside your knickers.”

“Going a bit fast tonight are we, mister?”

“Not necessarily, I just want to see how wet you are before we do anything.”

“Why?”

“Call it…curiosity.”

I could hear a bit of shuffling on the other end of the line and smiled to myself as I tried to picture her on the couch in her ‘unsexy’ pajamas, tentatively slipping a hand into her knickers for me.

“That would be a yes,” she finally said, her voice softening.

“A yes?”

“As in, yes, I am…very wet.”

Imagining her on the other end of the line had already been enough to arouse me, but there was something about the breathy way she’d said those words that caused me to harden even more in my jeans, pressing almost uncomfortably against the denim.

“Good, because I’m very hard.”

She moaned a little in response and it honestly almost undid me completely. Thank goodness I was able to keep my head on and carefully evade making a pubescent mess in my pants. That would have been rather embarrassing.

“What should we do next, Dr. MacLachlan?” she asked, her voice now maintaining the soft, erotic breathiness of her previous statement.

“Well, if I were there, I would slowly unbutton your top. Will you do that for me?”

“Unbutton my top?”

“Yes, but imagine it’s me doing it.”

“It might be a bit awkward one-handed, but I’ll give it a shot.”

I could hear her shuffling and the slight mews and grunts she was making in frustration. “You can put the phone down in you need,” I offered.

“I’m sorry?” she asked, her voice somewhat muffled as her mouth moved closer to the mouthpiece.

“If you need to put the phone down to make things easier – ”

“Oh.”

I heard the sound of the phone tossed against fabric as she put the receiver down and couldn’t help but wonder where she might be in the flat. Was she sitting or even lying on the bed? Was she on the couch? Was she somewhere else entirely?

Of course, thoughts of Martha topless anywhere in our home is a very enticing thought for me. I found myself thinking of the soft curves of her breasts and how her small dark nipples puckered at their peaks. I thought of how hard her nipples might be and how much she loved it when I’d surprise her with a hard little pinch of them between my forefinger and thumb –

“It’s off,” she said, interrupting my reverie.

“Good,” I breathed. “Now, I’d like you to slowly touch yourself. Run your hands over your belly, over your breasts and nipples, and…play with your nipples between your fingers, yes.”

“And what about you?”

“Me?”

“Aren’t you going to take your shirt off?”

“Is that something you want? It’s not half as exciting as a woman’s curves. Remember, I’m all bones and angles instead.”

“I like your bones and angles,” she chuckled. “And besides do you know what I really love?”

“Enlighten me,” I replied, mirroring our earlier conversation.

“I love that soft downy hair on your belly, especially that nice line of hair that leads downward into your trousers. Will you slowly run your fingertips over your chest and belly for me while I touch myself?”

“Your wish is my command. Won’t be a tic.”

I laid the mobile down on the couch next to me and then pulled off my lab coat and the jumper I was wearing, laying them beside me as well. I then laid back against the fabric of the couch, slowly unbuttoning my shirt as I thought of Martha’s fingers on me.

I had to admit, though I’d often enjoyed her caresses, I didn’t realize after so many months together her particular penchant for my belly. The thought of anyone enjoying my own body to the extent I enjoy hers sounded vaguely preposterous, I must admit.

I’d sadly had my share of people making fun of the shape of my body throughout my life and, even worse, women wincing once I pulled of my shirt, staring in overt disgust at my slightly protruding ribs and sternum. I’m quite sure I’ve never seen Martha wince though or look at me as if I were some object of horror, though. In fact, to the contrary, she’s always made me feel more desirable than anyone else ever has.

As I finished my last button – letting the sides of my shirt hang to my sides – I sighed deeply, again thinking of how lucky I was to have such an amazing and caring woman in my life.

I picked the mobile back up. “I’m touching myself now,” I whispered into the receiver.

“As am I.”

We spent the next few minutes cooing and moaning as we touched ourselves, imagining one another’s hands on us, urging on our respective feelings of arousal to more and more of a fevered pitch.

“Follow that line of hair into your trousers. I want you to touch your cock,” Martha finally breathed.

I could feel a twinge of excitement that hardened me – to an almost painful degree now -- even more from her words. I quickly slipped by hand down to unbutton the snap of my jeans, and then much more slowly slid my hand past the waistband and into my underwear.

I groaned once my fingertips grazed slightly dampened curls to grasp myself and then cradled the mobile between my chin and shoulder for a moment, lifting my hips slightly to shove my trousers and underwear down to my knees with my free hand.

“And what about you?” I asked, trying to concentrate enough to form the words needed to converse as I settled back onto the couch.

“Me?”

“I want you to touch yourself too.”

“You do?” she asked with a faux innocence, obviously playing coy with me.

“Why yes, in fact, I was thinking more specifically of slipping your hand into your knickers and then slipping a finger inside yourself as you rub your clit with your thumb.”

“That sounds enterprising.”

“It,” I gasped, stroking myself harder, “certainly does.”

“Slipping my hand in my knickers?” she asked playfully, the faint rustling sounds on the phone teasing me with images of the movements she was making.

“Yes.”

“And, then slipping a finger inside myself?” she asked in a breathy whisper and then cooed, “Oh.”

“Yes.”

“And then I should rub my clit with my thumb, yes?” she asked, her words starting to get obviously strained between clenched teeth.

“Yes,” I repeated, each time the word becoming more of a hiss.

“Are you thinking about my hand on you right now?”

“I am,” I breathed, squeezing myself at the tip and then slipping the resulting lubrication along my shaft for a delicious friction. I shuddered at the pleasure. “Are you thinking about my finger inside you?”

“Yes,” she moaned. “I am.”

“I want you to add another finger and, as you feel comfortable, add another after that. I want you to imagine me fucking you right there on the – ”

“Couch,” she finished. I smiled, now able to visualize her better now that I knew where she was.

“Yes, on the couch. Imagine that I couldn’t even wait to get you to the bedroom. I came home from work and had to have you right now, so I pushed you back on the couch and began to make love to you.”

“You should do that more often, you know.”

“Eh?” I slowed down my ministrations.

“Just grab me and have sex with me right away after work.”

“Perhaps I should, I never knew you would want that. You always seem so focused on getting dinner ready and all that.”

“You never tried.”

“Okay, well, duly noted, then: Throw myself on Martha once I come home from work.”

“Unless we have company.”

“Oh, you’re no fun,” I teased.

“Okay, depending on who the company is.”

“Fair.”

“Now, where were we?” she asked, giggling a bit nervously.

“I was fucking you on the couch like the wanton woman you are.”

“Wanton woman?”

“It sounded good.”

“Ah, right,” she teased. “So, are you fucking me hard or softly at the moment?”

“Pretty hard, I should think. I did say I couldn’t wait to have you – ”

“Oooh.”

“Oooh?”

“Three…fingers,” she ground out. “That’s nice.”

“I should think so. I only wish it were me instead.”

“But it is, of course. You are fucking me, remember?”

“Of course, how silly of me,” I said, chuckling as I started to speed up the movement of my fist. “And you feel so good. I love being inside you, Martha.”

“And I love when you are inside me, John. I can feel your hips slapping against me and the soft weight of your body on mine.” Her moans were becoming louder and the soft panting of her breath against the receiver was certainly daring to bring my orgasm quickly.

“Oh, Martha. You feel so good, so good, “I groaned, imagining myself on top of her on our couch. Our new couch in our new home – the two of us together, in our home –

“Oh, John. God, I think I’m, I think I – ” Martha keened loudly, growling and grunting until she finally seemed to catch her breath. When she spoke again, her voice was very small, “Coming.”

I could only moan in response, lost in the fantasy of her inner muscles caressing my cock inside her as she climaxed – kneading and pulling on me as I moved within her. I could feel the telltale tightening in my groin and my muscles begin to tense. My toes curled as I moved my hand harder and faster against myself, twisting and pulling in myself until my own orgasm hit me and I called out her name at least once -- but it may have been a hundred times for all I knew -- and pumped my release onto my belly.

“Did you make a mess?” Martha finally asked and I found myself laughing while still trying to catch my breath from the climax.

“Just a small one, mostly on my stomach. Nothing a bit of tissue won’t be able to handle.”

“I don’t know the thought of you on the – ”

“Couch,” I finished her sentence with a laugh. “I’m on a couch, too.”

“Well, the thought of you on the couch in your office with your trousers down and your ejaculate on you is…strangely rather appealing.”

“Is it?” I asked, reaching over to the tissue box on the end table. I began to clean myself off. “Perhaps we can reenact this at home so you have a better view? Maybe both on our mobiles?”

“In the same room on our mobiles?” Martha laughed.

“Possibly.”

“John, if you were on the couch next to me, I should think I would rather the real thing, if you know what I mean.”

“Of course, of course,” I replied, glancing up at the clock. A very pleasurable thirty minutes had passed since he’d been on the call with her. “You know what, Martha?”

“Hmm?”

“I only have another hour or so until I can leave here.”

“And?”

“Well, I could be wrong, but I have this strange suspicion that I might come home so aroused that I have to have you right then on the couch.”

“You won’t even be able to wait to get to the bedroom?” she teased.

“Nope.”

“But…I have dinner to worry about.”

“Pardon?” I couldn’t tell by her tone of voice if she were being serious or not.

There was a brief silence on the line before Martha started to laugh loudly. “Just teasing,” she managed between laughs. “I couldn’t resist.”

Fic Rec: The Four Doctors

2008-10-12T08:27:34Z

I completely meant to post this some time ago, but got distracted when life got in the way.

tardis_mafia wrote a sexy fic about Martha and Dr. John that pairs them up with both Ten and 10.5. It doesn't technically fit into our timeline here at martha_dr_john, but since it involves Martha and John, I wanted to rec it here.

Title: The Four Doctors
Author: TARDIS_Mafia
Rating: NC-18 (For homosexual situations.)
Disclaimer: I don't own anything in Doctor Who...which is unfortunate.
Characters: Martha/Ten/Dr John/Human!Ten, Ten/Dr John, Human!Ten/Martha, Ten/Martha
Summary: The Doctor and Human!Ten drop by Martha and John's for a visit and get more than what they came for.

Click for 'The Four Doctors'

John/Martha/Ten and John/Ten icons

2008-10-02T10:22:29Z

radiantbaby here.

So, in the midst of procrastinating, I realized that I had lots of John/Martha icons and a Ten/John/Martha icon, but I didn't have any Ten/John icons.

Well, I started to toy around on the GIMP and this is what I came up with. I also have some Ten/Martha/John ones I made as well. I am not so good at layering yet (read: likely pretty bad), but nevertheless I thought some of you might be interested in them.

Please feel free to take with credit (i.e. radiantbaby).

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Created with angelamaria's Icon Table Generator @ Bauble

Always Running, Part 1/1

2008-09-29T22:34:53Z

Title: Always Running
Author: radiantbaby
Characters/Pairings: Mostly Ten/Dr. John, but implied Ten/Martha/Dr. John as well [Note: Dr. John was a David Tennant character from “Love in the 21st Century”]
Word Count: 8061
Genre: AU, Angst, Romance, Slash
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Post-S3 new!Who [AU], also “Unearthly Child,” “The Sensorites,” and “The Dalek Invasion of Earth.”
Summary: The Doctor takes John a trip, but the two end up closer than they expected as they discover what always keeps them running and how they might face up to the demons of their pasts. Crossover of Doctor Who and “Love in the 21st Century”
Disclaimer: ~~All your Doctor Who are belong to us~~ Sadly, I own nothing related to Doctor Who or ‘Love in the 21st Century’ et al. I am just playing around in their sandbox for a bit of fun.
Author Notes: Thank you to persiflage_1 and abstruse_fangrl [who also provided the original prompt] for their beta-work, sanity checks, advice, and overall moral support.

This story is #8 in our series, following the events of Bizarre Love Triangle.

Feedback is happy-making, so please leave a word or two [even if I am a bit slack in responding, your comments always make my day].

===

[Fic Banner by radiantbaby]

+ + +

Brown eyes met brown – both deep, both searching, both filled with a surprising recognition of kindred souls within the universe –

The Doctor almost felt sparks against his fingertips as they pressed delicately – intimately – against John’s temples. The rush of climax had synced them together, their thoughts and feelings interlaced and their souls touching in the darkness as their bodies moved against one another.

“Always running,” the Doctor whispered.

“Always,” John replied.

And as soon as it was there, the connection broke just as quickly – walls rising harshly to protect against secrets and any other bombardments pulling up deeply buried feelings from the past.

+ + +

“Martha?” John called out in the darkness, heart racing, and limbs cold and clammy from the nightmare he was having.

A protective arm wrapped around his torso and a body quickly flanked his side, naked flesh now sticking to naked flesh from the sweat rising on John’s skin.

“It’s okay, I’m here,” the Doctor whispered.

“Where’s Martha?” he asked in a half-whimper, feeling suddenly lost in the darkness as his mind slowly began to wake, still shaken by his bad dream.

A soft kiss against his neck and fingertips stroking his belly began to calm him. “On assignment with Torchwood in Africa. You remember that, don’t you, John?” the Doctor said, his dulcet voice soothing him as he become more fully aware of everything around him.

John raised a hand to his forehead, running a hand through his hair in embarrassment. “I’m sorry, Doctor, I was just – ”

“Scared?” the Doctor nuzzled his nose against John’s neck, “You sounded like you were having a terrible dream.”

“Yeah.” John said quietly, swallowing hard, “I had a bad dream. It was about Martha.”

---

Royal Hope Hospital. 1:30 AM.

John sat worrying by Martha’s bedside, nervously chewing his fingernail as he watched the slow rise and fall of her chest, as she lay unconscious before him.

She’d been at UNIT early that morning when – from the bit and pieces he’d gleaned from speaking with the Brigadier – an alien had infiltrated the premises. One of the first rooms it had found was the medical bay and it had attacked a hapless Martha -- it’s teeth injecting her with some unknown, unearthly venom – before it could be captured.

Several hours and tests later, she was in Royal Hope under his care. He’d yelled and fought to get her there and once they’d deemed her able to be released to him, he’d rushed her to the hospital to do his own battery of tests.

“Dr. MacLachlan, is there anything you need before I go?” Emily, the nurse on duty, asked him.

“I’m alright. Thank you, Emily.”

“Is,” Emily hesitated, looking down for a moment before looking back at him, “is Martha going to be alright?”

“I’m sure she will be,” he said with a forced smile, hoping that he could convince himself of the words he was saying. “She is a fighter and a survivor, so if anyone can make it, she can.”

“I hope you are right, doctor,” Emily replied with a sad smile back at him, before ducking out the door to leave.

Once alone with Martha again, he reached over to stroke her hair, speaking softly to her. “It’s going to alright, my darling. Jack is on his way and both Torchwood and UNIT are working on an antidote. Would you like me to read to you? I have some Keats in my office. I can run and grab it for you.”

John got up and pressed a soft kiss to Martha’s forehead, frowning a bit as the skin there was cold and laden with sweat. “I’ll be back in just a moment. Maybe I’ll read some of Keats’ letters to you. I know how much you love those.”

He turned and left the room, remembering with a wistful smile the times he would read to her. She had been surprised that he was a fan of poetry, especially the Romantics, but always said how much she loved it when he would read to her as they lounged around their home.

Lying in his arms, she’d say how it would ground her and ease her in times of stress. She would then smile and tell him how she loved to hear the soft cadence of his voice as he read to her and he would blush, but beam inwardly at her words.

Truth be told, it had always been an almost-secret part of himself that he’d never truly shared with anyone else. His attempts at reading poetry to a girl in the past as a teenager only led him to be called a poof by her and, consequentially, hiding that side of himself from any future lovers.

He probably wouldn’t have told Martha either, to be honest, but she’d discovered his books one evening and asked him about them. He knew he could never lie to her, so he, rather nervously, told her that day of his love for poetry.

He was surprised she’d been so receptive to his confession and even had been the one to request for him to read to her sometime in the first place. Soon after, it quickly moved to becoming a small tradition of sorts for them on more emotionally exhausting days, especially since they’d moved in together.

Once he entered his office, he grabbed his Keats book from his shelf and quickly made his way back to Martha’s room. As he rounded the corner to enter, though, he gasped in surprise – the bed had been stripped bare and Martha was nowhere to be found.

John double-checked the number of the room as his heart began to race and he began to panic. He made his way down to the hall to a nursing station to ask about Martha’s whereabouts, but no one seemed to know what he was talking about.

There was no record of her being there on the computer and when he’d run back to the room a second time, he noticed her charts were missing as well.

“Martha?”

He called out for her repeatedly, quickly making his way through the halls. Several nurses tried to quiet him, warning him that he was going to wake up many of the patients. He stubbornly ignored them, though, instead focusing on making his way through the hospital in a desperate search for her.

I only left her for just a minute, just a minute, he kept repeating to himself. What could have happened?

“Martha?” he called out one last time.

Then he awoke abruptly.

---

The Doctor reached up to caress his hair, a thumb’s caress against his temple to give him a glimpse into what John had dreamt. “It’s alright, it was just a nightmare. I think you’re just worried because she is so far away. Do you need me to take you to her? I can do that if you need. Or, we could call her.”

“Yes, I should call her,” John said with a sigh, reaching over to flip on the bedside lamp. “That’ll make me feel better, I should think. Otherwise, I might not be able to get back to sleep.”

John smiled at the Doctor, looking at the soft glow of his skin as the light shone on him and the way the sinews of his muscles shifted beneath his skin as he reached over to grab John’s mobile from the bedside locker on his side.

John would have never guessed a month before that the man he’d contemplated angrily confronting on first sight would now be entwined nude with him – legs curled around legs – on his bed.

The Doctor handed over the phone and he took it, flipping it open to scroll through the names on his contact list. He worried for a moment that it was only about 6:00 AM in Madagascar -- where she was helping Torchwood with an alien virus that had broken out in the north of the island – but his need to call her dominated any real reticence.

“Hello,” Martha answered, obviously groggy and sleepy on the other end of the line when she answered.

John spoke to her for a few minutes and, after finally feeling convinced that she was currently in no danger, he sheepishly ended the call and placed the mobile on his bedside locker.

“Better?” the Doctor asked, watching him with his head propped up on his elbow.

“Much,” John replied, mirroring him with his head now also propped up. “I’m sorry to have woken you.”

“Oh, I wasn’t sleeping,” the Doctor replied with a shrug.

“Not sleeping?”

“No, just thinking.”

“About what?”

“You.”

“Me?” John smiled, leaning forward to press his lips against the Doctor’s. “I like that.”

John pushed the Doctor backward to lay flat, moving on top of him and straddling his leg to deepen the kiss.

Sometimes there would be a fight for dominance between them – two alpha males trying to top one another – but this time the Doctor submitted easily to him, seemingly letting him use the pleasure from him as a salve against his worries.

As John fell back asleep later, he didn’t dream at all – instead succumbing to a soft black darkness that felt as if it enveloped him like a blanket. He wasn’t sure if the Doctor had anything to do with it, but he knew that even if he did, he’d probably never actually admit it.

The two men were still playing games with one another when it all came down, still holding back as much as they gave.

Sometimes, John thought, it was like looking in a mirror.

+ + +

“I think you impress him and scare him at the same time,” Martha’s voice – choppy with static from their dodgy phone connection – rose on the line.

“How do you mean?” John asked, stirring the scallops in the pan before him.

It had been two days since he’d had his bad dream and Martha was giving him a rare call to reconnect. He’d offered several times to come and see her in Africa, knowing that if the Doctor couldn’t bring him there, he’d just as easily jump on a plane to get there.

“Don’t you see how much alike the two of you are?” Martha asked with a laugh, “I’m amazed I never saw it before. It’s just when the two of you are together, it’s a bit…uncanny.”

“Yeah, well, he is a handsome bloke,” John replied easily, dodging the deeper ramifications of what she was saying.

+ + +

“Where are we?” John peered outside the door of the TARDIS into the beautiful shining swirls of red dust before him.

“The Horsehead Nebula,” the Doctor announced, his voice punctuated with gleeful smugness as he sidled up next to him and pointed into the distance. “See? It’s shaped a bit like a horse. Well, personally I agree with the Ood and think it looks more like a Cragorhloot, but I don’t think that Cragorhloothead Nebula has quite the same ring to it, do you?”

“And we’re not going to suffocate in the vacuum of space with these doors open?”

John marveled at how calmly he’d asked the question. The concepts that went hand in hand with his new life seemed to be coming to him with much more ease than he would have anticipated.

“Nah, the TARDIS is protecting us, we’ll be perfectly fine. Care to sit down?” the Doctor offered, folding his own lanky body to perch on the edge of the entrance, leaving his legs to swing in the space outside, much like a child might. “I assure you, it’s perfectly safe.”

John eased himself down to the floor much more slowly, still a bit hesitant about things, before draping his own legs outside the entrance and heaving a small sigh of relief once he was safely settled.

“See, not so bad, eh?” the Doctor asked, a wide smile on his face.

“Yeah. A bit weird, but not bad.”

The Doctor nodded in assent and then the two men fell into a companionable silence, just quietly watching the sights before them.

John mused to himself about how what he saw was just so peaceful and so enchanting. He even smiled a bit as he fantasized for a moment about being an artist, brushes in hand as he painted the beautiful palate of shapes and colors before him – anything to attempt to capture the memory in a more tangible medium.

John also – he had to confess – wished he could show what he was seeing to Martha.

“Have you…ever brought Martha here?”

The Doctor looked thoughtfully at John, chewing his bottom lip for a moment before answering. “No, not Martha. Last time I was here was a very, very long time ago. I was a different man then, quiet literally. It was with Barbara, Ian…and…and Susan, but not Martha.” He swallowed hard, looking away back into space.

John wondered why he’d faltered in speaking and what had caused him to turn away, but didn’t push. The two men were always walking on eggshells around one another, it seemed, no matter how close they got. John found himself empathizing more and more with Martha’s tales of frustration from when she still traveled with him, often not knowing how much to ask the Doctor and how much to just let be.

To John, the Doctor always seemed at some sort of tipping point and left him with a strong sense that if he pushed that little bit too much, he might just break him.

“Over there,” the Doctor spoke again, this time his voice barely louder than a whisper, as he pointed across the nebula, “is the Sense Sphere, home of the Sensorites. And just over there,” he paused again, pointing in the opposite direction, “is the Ood Sphere, home of the Ood.”

“The Sensorites…Ood…Barbara….Ian….Susan….what stories you must have…”

“Everyone has stories.”

“You know, Martha thinks we are a lot alike. Or so she says.”

The Doctor hummed in assent. “We do look very similar, though I might wager that I’m the more handsome of the two of us,” he said with a cheeky grin.

“Right, you keep believing that.”

“It’s what keeps me going some days.”

----

“Susan was my granddaughter.”

The Doctor was telling one of his anecdotes -- as he so often did – and then seemingly apropos of nothing, at least as far as not relating to the subject at hand from what John could tell, he’d suddenly stated this revelation very simply, yet sadly.

“Pardon?”

“Susan. She was my granddaughter,” he repeated.

“But you look so – ” Young, John had almost said.

The Doctor simply raised an eyebrow at him in response and the two men fell into silence again, turning their attention back outside the doors of the TARDIS.

“Where is she now?” John whispered into the soundless space before them, hoping to finally break the tension that was quickly rising between them.

“Gone.”

“Moved on?”

The Doctor laughed mirthlessly and John felt himself tremble a bit at the dark expression that now colored his countenance as he glanced back at him to answer. “Not quite.”

“Oh.”

The two men returned to looking at the nebula, awkward words between them apparently stifling them both.

“You said that over there was the Sense Sphere, right? What sort of planet is it? Is it anything like Earth?” John asked quietly, attempting to avert the apparent discomfort with the topic at hand.

John’s inquiry was only met with silence, though -- a cold, achingly discomforting silence.

John didn’t know the Doctor very well, of course, but one thing he had observed since they’d been acquainted was that he was generally a particularly verbose fellow, especially when it came to such things as the topic of science or history or time. In fact, sometimes he would regale John for hours with fantastical stories about where and when he’d traveled, or debate with him about microbiology in modern medicine, or tell awful Maths jokes that only he would laugh at –

The Doctor was rarely so quiet.

His uncharacteristic silence began to fill John with a looming sense of unease, especially when he dared sidelong glances at the darkened, hollow gaze in the Doctor’s eyes as he looked out into space.

To John, the Doctor had never seemed more alien to him than he had in that moment – so different, so distant.

And then, though the two men were in a vessel that traveled in time, it seemed that time had in fact stopped – that it was now (almost) standing still. Those soundless minutes frozen between them soon felt as if they were now curling and grasping at them with icy spindly fingers -- hanging thick and heavy around them, as if trapping them, weighing them down.

John wanted it to stop or speed up again or something (anything), because the discomfort picked and pulled at him like a scab, sinking deep beneath his punctured skin, and he understood with a stark clarity why he was always running – it was to escape this terrible pull into the creeping darkness of the past.

John grasped the doorway of the TARDIS at his sides, knuckles white and his body taut as if he was about spring upward and escape. In fact, that was all that was filling his mind now, his desires – to escape, to run, the boy inside screaming at the man he was now to get away, to not let it get him (again) –

He’d started to pull his knees up, started to shift his body to stand, when the Doctor grabbed his arm with a strong grip to stop him, fingertips pressing hard into his skin enough to bruise –

“She’d dead.” It was small, broken, barely above a whisper, but the words were there, hanging between them like that thick sinister pull of time he was trying so desperately to escape.

“Dead,” John echoed, wanting to free himself from the Doctor’s grasp, but honestly a bit afraid to, unsure of what might happen if he even could.

“I killed her, John. I killed them all.”

Something dropped inside John’s belly and he began to feel a bit dizzy and nauseated, everything spinning around him now. He hoped for a minute that maybe time had restarted, that his body was just catching back up to the momentum of its movement after being momentarily sedentary. “Killed?” he stammered, still trying to get his bearings.

“My world, my people, my family – all dead because of me.”

The Doctor was looking at him again – those hollow, dark, ancient eyes now turned in his direction and burning into him as if piercing his soul. John tried to look away, but he found himself just as trapped by the Doctor’s expression as he had by the frightening feeling in the air around them.

“Stop,” John managed, pleading. He knew he was trembling now, but he didn’t care anymore, he just wanted – needed – to run.

“Oh, I can’t stop, John. I kill people, that is my life, that is my curse.”

“Are you,” John paused, an odd alarmed whimper-like sound rising from deep within his throat stopping him before he continued, his voice quivering, “going to kill me too?”

The Doctor’s eyes focused even more intently on him and then his gaze looked down at where he was holding his arm. He let go quickly, shaking his hand as if scalded by heat, and when his gaze returned to John, he now only saw fear – and unshed tears – there instead.

“John,” he whispered.

“Doctor.”

The Doctor lifted his hand to run it through his hair and John took advantage of the distraction, pushing himself to his feet, but the Doctor grabbed his leg. “Don’t leave. Please. They all leave.”

John breathed in deeply, trying to calm himself. The Doctor was obviously frightened, so one of them needed to be calm. He reached into his mind to ease himself, to put himself in a position of more authority, the way he held himself when talking to or soothing his patients – calm, cool-headed, collected.

“Doctor, please let go,” John said evenly, as if soothing a skittish horse. “You are hurting me and you are scaring me.”

“I – ”

“Doctor, please,” he repeated, still calm, still soothing, still professional –

“I had to,” the Doctor let go of John’s leg. “It wasn’t like I walked up and put a bullet in their brains. I could never…it was the war, I had to save them, don’t you understand? It was the only way. It was my duty. I was a soldier. I did what they asked and I was supposed to die too, but I didn’t. I didn’t. I am the only one. I am the last. I am the last of my kind. There were so many better people – better friends, better leaders – who should have survived instead of me. I am no one special, I am just a renegade meddler with a incessant god complex. It shouldn’t have ended that way. I’ve already lost too many people, but now, now I’ve lost them all.”

“I…never knew,” John said, softening, but still keeping his distance.

“I’ve never…I don’t think I’ve ever even said it out loud before. Bit and pieces, yes, but never…”

“Martha doesn’t know?”

“She knows that I’m the last of my kind and that my world was destroyed. She doesn’t know that it was at my hands.”

“Why haven’t you told her before? Or anyone for that matter?”

“You humans can’t understand the scope of it all, what it is like to not only destroy your own world, but your entire species,” the Doctor snarled, his ferocity from moments before seeming to rear its head again.

“That’s not fair.”

“Life’s not fair.”

“Look, maybe I…we…can’t understand, but that doesn’t mean you can’t give us a chance to try. Maybe we can help you. You are always pushing people away, maybe it’s time to let people in.”

“Such a healer, you are. I bet you always took in stray kittens as a child,” the Doctor spat, venom still in his words.

“Maybe I am a healer, maybe that feels like my purpose, and maybe I can help you.”

“As I said, you can’t understand.”

“Then help me understand, even just a little. What are you so afraid of?”

The Doctor stared up at him, blinking a bit as if thinking, as if unsure of how to respond, caught off-guard. “I…am afraid of getting too close and losing more people.”

“Cutting off your nose to spite your face, then? Sounds like a bad plan to me.”

”Oh, and what would you know?”

“I know what it means to lose everyone you hold dear, to be left alone. I know what it means to push everyone away because you are too terrified to let yourself care for them. I know what it means to be so terrified of losing someone that you sometimes cry yourself to sleep at night. No, it’s certainly not on the immense magnitude of what you’ve experienced -- I get that – but that doesn’t make it any less painful or real.”

“You humans, I hate you sometimes -- thinking you can fix everything, challenging me with your ostentatious thoughts and ideas and assumptions,” the Doctor said, his angry expression now softening with a small smile and a glimmer in his eye, despite his words.

“Oh, I know. Always a challenge, me. Mum said that I was even terrible with potty training, always wanting to run around the block with my nappy down around my ankles instead – “

“John, I am sorry that I frightened you,” the Doctor said soberly, interrupting him.

“The past is a frightening place.” John slowly eased back down to sit cross-legged on the ramp near the Doctor.

“You would have liked her.”

“Susan?”

“Yes. Oh, she was brilliant, just absolutely brilliant. She had her mother’s eyes and the loyalty of her father and, well, the obstinacy of me. She was so loyal, so very loyal. I had to…well, I had to push her away in the end -- out of the nest, so to speak – or she would have never left my side.”

“Out of the nest?”

“I wanted her to belong somewhere, John, to have roots of her own, not a life of just traveling all over time and space with me. She’d met a boy called David, a freedom fighter, who’d fallen in love with her immediately and she with him. Perhaps it wasn’t really true love, but I still thought perhaps with him she could finally have those roots and live a normal life. I didn’t want her to be like me. So, I locked her out of the TARDIS, leaving her with David on 22nd century Earth…It was truly one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.”

John put his hand reassuringly on the Doctor’s knee. “Did you ever visit her again?”

“No. I always meant to, of course, but I was always busy, always moving on and on, making excuse after excuse to myself for never wanting to look back or go back. I’ve spent lifetimes running from my past and I’ve always deeply regretted it. You always think you have tomorrow, especially when you are a Time Lord. In this case, I didn’t. I saw her once on Gallifrey -- later, older, as a new man – but then…well, I can only assume she died, if not earlier then with all the others, when I…well, when I…”

The Doctor swallowed hard and looked down.

“She’s alive in your heart…or hearts though. That’s where I keep William,” John patted his chest, “right here.”

“William?”

“My brother. I lost him when I was a child. He was bleeding in my arms and I thought for a long time that it was my fault that I couldn’t save him. It’s why I’m a doctor now, really…you lose people, I try to save them.”

The Doctor looked back up, fixing him with a curious stare. “Do you ever visit his grave?”

“I did a lot for a long time when I was young, every day for a while even, but now I carry him with me instead. I have a small memorial of sorts for him on my fireplace mantle at home and I keep his memory alive with the work I do. Hell, I’ve even toyed around with starting up a ‘William MacLachlan Fund’ or somesuch for children who’ve been in traumatic accidents or for their families -- whenever I get enough money accumulated, that is – for even more of a living memorial, you know?”

“Yes, a memorial, good, that’s good. You see, John, I haven’t just lost my people – I’ve lost so many others that have traveled with me. Just like Martha, there have been so many people that have been through these doors.” He ran a hand up the wood of the doorframe and tapped on it fondly before returning his hands to his lap. “So many adventures, but so much loss. Some of them died, some of them simply moved on.”

“I try to visit them – their graves – if I can, if I am around, if I am strong enough, really,” he continued, his voice thick with emotion. “Sometimes, though, there is no grave or city or even planet to honor them on. Sometimes it is just as gone as they are, so I have to make due in other ways. I don’t have a memorial on the mantle like you, but I do have a room – a ‘memorial’ or even mausoleum room, I guess you could say. That is where I keep all my memories of lost friends and loved ones.”

The Doctor reached over and pressed a palm to John’s chest, above his heart, which was still racing just a bit. “I’d keep them in my hearts – like you, John – but there are much too many of them, too many that have slipped through my fingers, that my hearts might just break from it all.”

John smiled sadly at him, reaching up the cover the Doctor’s hand with his own. “Can I see it – this room?”

“You never back down, do you?” the Doctor asked, chuckling and shaking his head in slight exasperation.

“It’s what makes me a good doctor, I suppose.”

“It’s what makes you a good person.”

“Come on, up, up.” The Doctor slipped his hand from John’s so that he could stand and, once on his feet, John looked questioningly up at him. “You may never have this chance again. Let’s just say I’m in a strange mood.”

John hopped up himself, knowing the window of opportunity to see this private side of the Doctor was quickly closing – that he was being given a rare gift, a gift that he was so thankful for. “Thank you, Doctor.”

“No, thank you, John,” he replied, pulling John into a tight embrace. They held each other for several long moments before the Doctor began laughing.

“What?” John asked bemused, his voice muffled slightly by the material of the Doctor’s jacket.

“Somehow I can totally see it…you running around with your nappy around your ankles, naked to the world with no shame about your body. I can see some things about you have hardly changed. It’s no wonder you and Jack get on so well…”

+ + +

The first thing John noticed was that the room was a pale yellow and not as well lit as the other rooms he had been in on the TARDIS. Then, looking around, he saw that situated along the curved walls, there were cupboards of smallish drawers with unfamiliar symbols above the handles. As John approached one of the walls, the symbols seemed to change – no longer static, they morphed into letters he could now understand –

The words were names: Zoe, Jamie, Victoria, Liz, Jo, Ben…

The Doctor walked up beside John, leaning over to his left to caress the letters on the drawer in front of him with his fingertips – it was simply labeled ‘Susan.’ He then softly pulled on the handle to open it, reaching inside to pull out what appeared to be a small transistor radio that looked to John to be from the 1960s or so.

The Doctor then caressed the radio in his hand for a moment, before flipping it on and lifting it to his ear. He seemed to fall into a trance -- his eyes closing as his body started to move to the music irregularly, his arm and hand moving in front of him in an almost circular, yet jerky rhythm. There was something a bit eerie and unsettling about the way he moved – something so very alien – that John only felt better when he focused on the music instead.

It sounded just like Earth music – Merseybeat from the 60s, in fact -- just like what his own grandfather would listen to when a young John and Will would visit him, regaling them with wondrous tales of how he’d once been in a skiffle band and had even known the legendary Lonnie Donegan.

Even though he’d rarely thought of him in years, John suddenly deeply missed his grandfather – the memory now painfully present in his senses with the Doctor reminiscing about Susan and the music drawing him back to his youth. He’d died – his grandfather – when he was just a young boy, even before Will’s accident, but John could still remember him vividly and fondly.

“John Smith and the Common Men,” the Doctor murmured, almost startling John back to the present from his own thoughts. “Susan loved them.”

The Doctor continued to dance – John now watching him with curiosity – until the song ended and he flipped the radio off. His eyes were suddenly clear and he seemed himself again as he turned from John to place a light kiss on the radio and then carefully, lovingly, placed it back in the drawer where he’d retrieved it.

“My grandfather loved that music,” John offered softly, trying to ease the tension now hanging in the room between them.

The Doctor turned to him and offered a soft smile in response, his eyes suddenly seeming to show how old he truly was – so impossibly ancient it was almost dizzying. “Grandfathers usually do.”

---

The Doctor spoke briefly about many of the people whose names decorated the room, seeming not to linger too long on any of them, but instead moving along from each one in their own time.

John got the distinct impression that the Doctor was never one to linger on such matters – always moving forward with things, much like himself.

The two men finally stopped in front of a cupboard that had a drawer labeled ‘Martha’ and despite himself, John’s breath hitched in surprise upon seeing it. The Doctor stepped forward, not speaking a word in response, and eased open the drawer. He then reached inside and pulled out what almost looked like a necklace, or, upon closer inspection, a key at the end of some frayed string. It glinted in the yellow light and, almost unconsciously, John cupped his hands underneath it as it swayed to and fro, letting the Doctor slowly lower it into his hands.

“Is this -- ?”

“The perception filter she wore when she walked the Earth,” the Doctor replied almost brusquely, his eyes boring into his so intensely that John felt compelled to look down at the key instead.

“Why do you have it?” John whispered, feeling suddenly reverent to the object.

“She gave it back after everything…before she left.”

“And why do you keep it here?” John asked, starting to hand it back to the Doctor, though he was surprised when he’d flinched and took a step backward from him, avoiding it.

“Sometimes I keep things in here to remember,” he replied, his eyes now taking on a look of regret mixed with what almost looked like fear. “And sometimes I keep things in here to forget.”

John looked at the Doctor for a moment and then back down at the key in his hand. “Are you afraid of this?”

“Afraid, no. Why should you ask that?” the Doctor replied, noticeably uncomfortable now, as he began to scratch his neck and ease another step backward.

“You are acting strange, that’s why. You were fine a moment ago – a bit odd and all as you showed me the other things, but since you picked this up…you’ve been afraid. Yes, definitely afraid.”

The Doctor’s brow furrowed in confusion as if he’d been unaware of the difference in his behavior until his expression suddenly cleared as if he were remembering something. “I must have held it too long again,” he finally murmured.

“I’m sorry?”

“The connection – psychometry is what you humans call it,” the Doctor began to speak more clearly. “I can connect with objects sometimes, well, get impressions and feelings from touching them. It’s not common, but if it is an object that has a lot of emotion attached to it…well, let’s just say that most of the things in this room have that effect on me.”

“Psychometry?” John repeated, thinking back on the Doctor’s behavior since they’d been in the room. “I noticed that you’ve acted differently with each object, now that you mention it. I just thought you were being your usual odd and eccentric self. I mean, you were dancing a bit strangely with that radio when we first came in and when you had that kilt in your hand, your whole manner and speech changed. I thought you were just showing off using a proper Scottish accent for me as you told those anecdotes about…Jamie, was it? It didn’t even occur to me that…wow.”

“I didn’t even notice.” The Doctor was beginning to look a bit sheepish.

“And this?” John began, rubbing a fingertip over the tiny pieces of metal soldered to the key. “You can feel things from this as well? You can…feel Martha?”

The Doctor bit his lip, a faraway look darkening his expression. “Yes.”

“Does it…hurt?”

“The key? Well, it stings a bit if I hold it for more than a moment. If I hold it for longer though – ”

“Have you?”

“Yes.”

“What happened?”

The Doctor sat suddenly on the ground in a heap of lanky curled limbs, pulling his knees up to his chest as he began to rock back and forth. He’d honestly moved so quickly that he’d startled John.

“Doctor?”

He looked up at John, tears beginning to roll down his cheeks. “I saw it all, John. I saw everything. I held it one night, after she left. It must have been strong enough to knock me out because I woke up hours later on the floor just here. As soon as I came to, though, a flood of her memories – her feelings – rushed into me. It was horrible. I was overwhelmed with fear. I’d never felt so afraid, so alone, so invisible. It took me ages to calm down.”

John knelt down in front of him, putting a reassuring a hand on his shoulder. “Doctor – ”

“I did that to her, John. Yes, she came out strong and she made me so proud in the end, but she also lived a year of nightmares because of me.”

“Doctor – ”

“The things she saw John. The terrible, terrible things – ”

“Doctor,” John shifted onto the floor to wrap him arm around him to calm him. “It’s okay, now. She’s been dealing with it, moving on. She doesn’t blame you.”

John held the Doctor while he cried, leaving the key on the floor beside them. Its mysteries kept calling to him, though, and he couldn’t help but finally ask, “Can you show me?”

The Doctor looked at him, utterly astonished. “Show you?” he repeated slowly, dragging out each word.

“Yes,” John replied, pushing his chin out in defiance. “I want to know, even just a glimmer. All these people I care about know about that year – Martha, Jack, the Brig – and I try and console them, I try to understand, but I can’t do it effectively because I didn’t live it. I will always be on the outside looking in. I want to help instead and I can’t help if I don’t know what it was like.”

“You don’t know what you are asking,” the Doctor said evenly, wiping the tears from his face with the back of his hand.

“Yes, I do. I’m not an idiot.”

“John, this is not a game. This is about real feelings, Martha’s feelings.”

“Yes, the woman I love, the woman we love. I want to truly understand her. I want to know.”

“This isn’t about favorite colors or her favorite toy as a child, John, this is much darker than that.”

“We all have our demons, Doctor. Please, let me have this.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not? It can’t be about ability. I know that you’ve connected to me, got inside my head, helped me see things…somehow before – ”

“John, please don’t ask this of me,” the Doctor interrupted. “I already feel enough guilt over her experiencing this, I can’t let you feel it as well.”

“Shouldn’t that be my decision? I’m willing to take on this burden, Doctor. Please, this means a lot to me. Please.”

The Doctor finally shook his head in exasperation. “You are a stubborn boy, aren’t you? Martha is lucky to have you.”

John gave a triumphant smile. “What do we need to do?”

“Come here,” the Doctor replied, pulling him between his knees so that they were huddled together, legs wrapped around legs, in a ball on the floor. “I’m going to open your senses up to feel what I am feeling, well as much as I can with your physiology, but it will only be a glimpse. Then I will drop the key as soon as it gets too intense to break the connection, okay?”

”Okay,” John replied, holding the Doctor close.

“Are you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

The Doctor reached up to press his fingertips against John’s temples and immediately he noticed that suddenly everything around him seemed brighter, more pronounced. It was as if everything was alive around him and he could feel everything around him weaving together into a state of perpetual connectedness – everything linked to everything throughout time, throughout space --

It was both frightening and exhilarating.

“Now hand me the key,” he felt, more than heard, the Doctor say.

John reached over to pick up the key, feeling it almost sparking with energy in his hand, and then handed it to the Doctor. The Doctor then covered John’s hand with his so that they held it between them and the next thing John saw was a blinding light – a light that felt as if it was burning into him, as if setting him on fire – and then nothing but darkness.

---

John was walking the streets near his old house in Glasgow late in the evening. It was cold enough to see his breath and hardly anyone was around.

He heard screaming suddenly and then saw people running across the street before him, running this way and that, more in a blind panic than with any noticeable purpose. John ran up to one of the people, asking them what was going on, but they did not respond to him -- it was like they couldn’t see or hear him. He went up to another person – a woman this time – and received the same lack of response. This went on, person after person, until he finally heard someone screaming in the distance to go to your homes and hide.

John soon found himself running, his breathing deep and labored as he made his way down the streets back home. Once there, he quickly let himself inside and ran through the house calling for his mum, only to find her passed out in the living room on the couch, an empty bottle of whiskey by her side and the telly turned up far too loud. He tried to shake her to wake her up -- unsure of what the danger was outside but still wanting to protect her nonetheless – but she did not stir.

There was a crashing sound from the back of the house that startled him and his mother sat up suddenly, looking around to try and figure out where the noise came from.

“Johnny, is that you? What are you up to now?” she called out angrily – her voice slurred with intoxication -- and then added with a mumble, “Always getting into trouble. Such a worthless boy.”

“Mum, I’m right here. It wasn’t me,” John said, trying to ignore the sting from her words, but she was looking straight through him as if he wasn’t there.

“Damn, telly. Never anything good on,” she groaned, using the remote to turn it off.

Loud laughter echoed outside the room and then John looked up to see three strange metallic balls float into the room. There was a loud ‘shing’ of metal as what looked like spikes unfolded from their sides, spinning like blades.

“Good evening. Time to die,” a voice, much like a child sounded in the room, and then the laughter continued until they descended upon John’s mother to kill her.

“No!” he screamed out, helplessly. “No!”

“John, John, it’s me,” he heard a voice faint in the distance – a voice familiar, soothing –

He opened his eyes to see the Doctor above him, holding him as he kicked his legs and struggled against him.

---

“So alone, so invisible,” John whimpered. “They killed her. I think they killed them all.”

The Doctor stroked John’s hair as he now lay bonelessly across his lap in his arms.

“Just a nightmare,” the Doctor said soothingly. “It was just your brain trying to process what the key showed you, trying to integrate it into your own memories. It’s probably easier for me because I can compartmentalize my thoughts quite easily, but human brains don’t work the same way.” The Doctor pressed a kiss to the crown of John’s head. “What did you see?”

John recounted his nightmare to the Doctor, trying to make sense of it as he spoke. “I don’t really understand what was happening. Were those the Toclafane?”

“Yes. It sounds like your mind picked a memory where you felt very lost and alone and grafted Martha’s fear and experiences with the Toclafane right on top.”

“I suppose,” John replied, weakly.

“John, may I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

“Our connection is still there but fading, so as you spoke of your dream, I could see and feel what you saw. Was,” he paused for a moment before continuing, “your mother really like that?”

John closed his eyes with a heavy sigh, leaning into the Doctor. “I’m afraid so. After my brother died, she always just made me feel – ”

“Invisible.”

“Yes, invisible. Invisible, worthless…you name it. And for a long, long time I believed her. It sometimes amazes me that I’ve ended up where I am today despite all that.”

“Yes, you could have taken a much darker path,” the Doctor sighed, holding John close. “But you didn’t. You’ve got a great big beautiful heart and you are a good man, John MacLachlan. I know what it’s like to be lost too, but I also know what it’s like to be found – ”

“By Martha?”

The Doctor laughed. “By Martha, by so many. So many people whose memories I cherish in this very room, making me the man I am today.”

“In my dream I was in Glasgow, where I grew up. I haven’t been able to go back there for about ten years. I tried to a few months ago with Martha, but found myself paralyzed with fear in Edinburgh and never made the trip over.”

“Old ghosts?”

“Too many. As you said, that is when I personally felt most invisible and most alone. I was so lost back then that there is a part of me that worries that if I go back and someone from my past sees me, that it will break the spell and I will be right back in that terrible life again.”

“I’m sure you know that’s not true, that you are stronger than that, John.”

“Somewhere up here I do,” John tapped his forehead and then moved his hand down to cover his heart, “but here needs a bit of work.”

+ + +

John and the Doctor were back to sitting in the doorway of the TARDIS looking out over the Horsehead Nebula again. John now carried the key in his pocket, a gift from the Doctor who’d said that the “last place Martha’s memories needed to be was a mausoleum” when she was still “so very alive.”

As they sat in silence – John’s hand in his pocket stroking the key – he thought of Martha’s journey across the Earth and how he knew a bit more about how she’d felt as she’d done so because of the Doctor. He felt more proud, more in awe, more in love with her than ever.

“John?”

“Yes, Doctor?”

“Let me take you to Glasgow.”

“I’m sorry?”

The Doctor reached down and pulled out the key from John’s pocket by the string. “You felt Martha’s fear from when she wore that, but you also felt that fierce strength of hers. Maybe it’s time that you went back home,” he paused, looping the key around John’s neck. “And be invisible again, but this time on your terms.”

“But – ”

“No one can see you, John -- no one that you don’t wish to, at least. Let Martha and I give you this gift.”

“I’m…scared.”

“I’ll be right beside you the whole time if you wish, holding your hand. I was a lost boy once too, John. Let me help you with something that I can never do for myself.”

The Doctor leaned over to press his lips against John’s and the two kissed languidly for several long moments before he got up to set the controls for Glasgow. John cupped the key around his neck in his hand and lifted it to his lips as the sounds of the TARDIS ground and whirred around him.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his gratitude rushing through him for both to the Doctor and Martha.

Home Is Where the Heart Is [Snapshot #4]

2008-09-19T05:30:41Z

Who_Daily Link: < a href="http://martha-dr-john.livejournal.com/7595.html">Home Is Where the Heart Is</a> by < lj user=persiflage_1> (Characters: Martha/Dr John (Love in the 21st Century) | Rating: NC-17 | Spoilers: None)

Title: Home Is Where the Heart Is [Snapshot #4]
Author: Persiflage_1
Characters/Pairings: Martha/Dr John (Cross-over with "Love in the 21st Century")
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: None
Summary: Martha and Dr John spend their first night in their new shared home.
Disclaimer: I occasionally wish I did own it!
Author Notes: This is Part Four in a group of short pieces that will act as supplements to the main series in this ficverse. radiantbaby and I have decided to call these little detours "Snapshots" and, as implied, they will be ficlets that are dispersed throughout the timeline, filling in little gaps here and there.
This particular story is set between A Thousand Pieces [Snapshot #1] (by radiantbaby) and Trusting You (by me).

~~~~~~

John straightened up with a moan, rubbing at his lower back. "That's it then, we've officially finished unpacking."

"Good." Martha was lying prostrate on the floor in the sitting room, her eyes closed in weariness. It had taken them all day to unpack with the help of Jack, Ianto and Tish, who had all gone home about an hour ago with invitations to come back the following weekend for an official house-warming party.

"I hope you're not going to sleep down there," John said, looking down at his supine lover.

"Mmm."

He knelt down beside Martha and ran a finger lightly up her right leg from her ankle to the back of her knee, eliciting a whimper – but whether she was protesting or encouraging him, he wasn't certain. He hoped it wasn't a protest and he decided to see if he could get a more coherent response out of her, sliding his finger higher until it disappeared under the hem of her skirt.

"John."

"Yes Martha?"

"I don't think I can move." She opened her eyes and he saw a hint of mischief in them.

"Oh really?" he asked.

"Yeah. I'm feeling a bit limp."

"Well then I'll just have to see if I can stir you into action, won't I?" he asked, a teasing note in his voice.

"You can try." There was a note of challenge in her voice he noticed as her eyes closed again.

"I will." He parted her legs gently, pushing her skirt up at the front to expose her thong, then he ducked his head and carefully drew his tongue up the length of her slit, pressing the silk tightly against her folds.

He heard Martha give a pleasurable sigh, a sound he knew very well by now and which never failed to excite him. He began stroking her lightly through the silk as he moved around until he was kneeling between her parted legs. He unfastened his jeans one-handed, pulling his semi-hard cock free, then he bent forward and pushing Martha's thighs further apart, he kissed her sex, rubbing his nose against her clit.

"Oh god!" Martha's eyes had flown open and she lifted her head a little to see her lover on his knees between her spread legs; the sight aroused her still further and she wondered if John was going to make her come without even taking any of her clothes off.

Just as she wondered this, he sat back on his heels and smiled down at her: it was quite possibly the most wicked smile she'd ever seen gracing his features, and a shiver of anticipation ran through her body.

"Okay?" he asked softly.

"Oh yeah!"

"Good." He reached up and pulled her thong down, sliding it slowly and sensuously down her legs, causing Martha to whimper as his fingertips brushed against her already tingling skin. He dropped the thong to one side, then bent down again, his hands holding her open as he dragged his tongue agonisingly slowly up and down the edges of her sex.

"John!" she whimpered, feeling her arousal growing as he teased her.

"Martha?" he asked, his voice vibrating against her skin.

"Please."

"Please what?" He didn't move his mouth and she whimpered again.

"Please – " She couldn't seem to form a sentence.

He chuckled softly and she moaned, then moaned again as he lapped gently at her clit. They both knew that he was perfectly capable of teasing her for an hour together if the devil was in him, but fortunately for Martha's peace of mind he wasn't in such a teasing mood tonight. He slid a finger into her sex, cooing with pleasure at the wetness he found there, then he bent to his self-imposed task of bringing her to a shuddering climax. He hadn't told her yet, but he had formed a plan during the course of the day's unpacking, of 'christening' every room in their new flat with some form of sexual activity before they went to bed, and it was for that reason that he wasn't going to prolong his teasing now.

Martha moaned and writhed and whimpered beneath him as he used his long, slender fingers and talented tongue to wind her up to such a pitch of arousal that she lay shuddering and speechless for several long minutes after she came. He lay next to her on his side, his head resting on his left hand while his right lightly traced patterns across her belly as she came down from her orgasm.

"All right?" he asked softly when she finally opened her eyes.

"Definitely all right," she agreed, smiling up at him. She shifted towards him, reaching for his erection, but he captured her wrist before her hand got to its destination. She looked up into his face, clearly concerned.

"Not yet, not here," he told her.

"Why not?" she asked, confused.

"Because, Martha Jones," he said, leaning forward to kiss her. "I intend us to mark every room of our new territory, and we've already done this room."

She laughed softly. "You have the cutest ideas." She gave him a thoughtful look. "So where am I going to get you off?"

"Well I don't know about you, but I'm hungry – it's hours since those pizzas we had for lunch."

"Kitchen then."

They helped each other up from the floor and, leaving Martha's thong where John had dropped it, headed into the kitchen.

"I think we want something that's quick to prepare and not going to sit too heavily in our stomachs, don't you?" Martha asked as John sat down at the kitchen table. His jeans were still undone and his cock so rigid that she was practically salivating in anticipation of making him come.

"There's some soup in the fridge," he told her. "I took it out of the freezer first thing."

"You're – what is it the Americans say? A smart cookie," she told him, putting her hands on his shoulders and bending forward to kiss him. She could still taste herself on his mouth and she felt her desire growing again.

"And are you going to eat me up?" he asked, when she finally pulled free to catch her breath.

"Do you want me to?" she countered. "I thought you might enjoy bending me over the table and taking me hard from behind."

John moaned. "I – I don't think I could last that long," he confessed.

"We'll have to save that for another day, then," Martha said as she pushed his legs apart and knelt on the floor between them.

"Ye-yes," he stuttered as she lapped delicately at his tip, her left hand reaching down to cup his scrotum, while her right wrapped loosely around his shaft. He whimpered as she began to stroke him firmly as she ran her tongue down the underside of his erection.

"Please Martha!"

He wondered whether she was enjoying the fact that he was the one begging her now, as she had been begging him earlier. She looked up and he saw amusement dancing in her dark eyes, and knew she was aware of their role reversal. Fortunately, she was no more inclined to prolong the teasing than he had been, and it wasn't very long before he was shouting her name as his orgasm hit him.

Afterwards she climbed up into his lap and kissed his throat, then sucked on his Adam's apple, her hands running through his short hair.

"Thank you," he murmured.

"My pleasure," she assured him, wriggling a little to make herself more comfortable, and incidentally causing her skirt to ride further up her thighs.

John growled, sliding his hands up her legs and then grabbing her hips. "We need to eat something," he told her.

"If you say so." She gave him a wicked grin and wriggled again so that his cock was brushing against her entrance.

"I do say so," he told her. He stood up and when she tried to wrap her legs around his waist, he swung her down onto her feet instead. "Martha, be good for ten minutes, will you?"

Martha pouted. "Don't give me that look," he admonished. "You'll thank me later, I promise."

She heaved a melodramatic sigh. "Okay then."

"You're incorrigible," he told her, kissing the top of her forehead before tucking himself away and going to the fridge for the soup.

"Something about pots and kettles springs to mind," she said, smirking when he glanced up at her. She went to the cupboard to get out the crockery, then found some cutlery while John poured the soup into a saucepan to heat on the stove.

"Are we having bread with this?" he asked.

"There's a loaf of sun-dried tomato bread in the bread bin," she told him as she filled the kettle with water.

"Oooh nice." He opened the bread bin, then found the chopping board and the bread knife, and began to cut it into thick slices while pausing to stir the soup. After a few moments Martha took over stirring the soup, so John finished cutting up the bread which he then heaped onto a plate and set down on the table.

He stepped up behind Martha and wrapped his arms around her, nuzzling the side of her neck.

"Happy?" she asked.

"Mmm, delirious, I'd say," he told her, his nuzzling becoming more insistent. He was growing aroused again and a part of him wanted to shag her senseless right there and then, but he knew that would spoil things later, so he restrained himself, albeit with difficulty.

"Delirious, eh? Perhaps I should give you an examination afterwards, check your symptoms?" she asked.

John groaned. "You, Dr Jones, will be the death of me."

Martha laughed. "I do hope not." She half-turned in his arms. "Soup's hot."

"So are you," he told her thickly.

"You're daft!"

He pulled away reluctantly. "I'm only speaking the truth," he said. "You are gorgeous and sexy and brilliant. I can't quite believe we're actually living together."

She arched her eyebrows up at him, then turned her attention to serving the soup. "Why not?"

He shrugged. "It just seems too good to be true. It's like a dream come true. When I think of all the hassles we've had finding somewhere, between your job and mine, and everything else."

"I thought we'd managed quite well," she said. "It's not every couple that manages to find somewhere and move in within a couple of months of deciding to live together, not when they're starting in a new place, rather than one moving into the other's flat."

"True." He sighed, then sat down. "I'll get used to it eventually."

"We both will," she said. "It'll become so normal that it won't even register any more."

He laughed softly. "I've a feeling living with you will never become 'normal', not when you chase aliens for a living."

Martha laughed too. "Normal for us, then," she said. "Now eat your soup."

"Ma'am." He mock-saluted her with his spoon, and she stuck her tongue out at him before beginning to eat.

They ate quickly, hungry from the day's exertions of unpacking boxes and shifting furniture, then they washed up.

"Dr Jones, would you care to accompany me?" asked John, offering her his hand once they'd finished.

She raised an eyebrow at his formality, and he suddenly leant forward and ran his tongue along the eyebrow, leaving her gaping in surprise.

"What was that for?" she asked.

He shrugged. "I love your eyebrows," he told her, "and that quizzical look you give me."

"You really are daft," she told him, then laughed when he pouted at her. "Come on, let's go and check out the bathroom."

He grinned wolfishly. "Now you're talking." He led the way into their bathroom, which was painted in shades of blue and yellow with seashells on the tiles, a large bath, big enough for the two of them, and a separate walk-in shower.

"Bath or shower?" asked Martha.

"Shower," John answered immediately as he began to undress her. Although he was already very aroused again, he took his time over getting Martha's clothes off, pausing to kiss or lick her skin, enjoying the scents and tastes that assaulted his senses, and the shivers of desire and anticipation that ran through her tiny frame.

By the time Martha was naked, she was whimpering and John was achingly hard, and he realised he'd been torturing himself as much as Martha.

"You, Dr MacLachlan, are a shameless tease," she whispered as she began to undress him in turn. "I ought to punish you for winding me up to such a state of arousal, but I suspect you've already punished yourself in the process."

He growled an agreement, and she looked up to see tension warring with desire in his face.

"Come on." She grabbed his hand and led him into the shower cubicle, waiting for him to shut the door before she turned on the water. She knew that neither of them was going to last very long, and she wasn't very surprised when he picked her up and pushed inside her ready heat.

"Oh god Martha!" he exclaimed as she tightened her muscles around his thrusting cock, her legs wrapped tightly around his body, and her arms around his neck. She was reminded, standing under the warm water, of the time they'd made love in an alley one summer evening, the rain pouring down over their heedless bodies, and in recollecting that she felt herself tumbling over the edge of her desire, her orgasm surging through her body.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck!" John gasped in anguish as his release swept through his body too, and he staggered against the wall of the shower cubicle, his legs trembling at the surge of energy that had swept through him.

He opened his eyes and found Martha regarding him through rivulets of water, her eyes alight with amusement and affection.

"Better?" she asked quietly. He could only nod for the moment, and she dipped her head to kiss him deeply, nipping at his bottom lip at intervals.

After a few moments he set Martha back down on her feet, and she picked up the shower gel and set about washing his chest and arms.

"You know one of the things I most look forward to now we're living together?" John asked as he lathered up his own hands to reciprocate.

"What's that?" she asked, shivering slightly as he began to wash her breasts.

"Shared showers or baths, and then snuggling up together afterwards, you in your flannel pyjamas and me in mine."

Martha laughed softly. "I don't actually own any flannel pyjamas, but I've got a couple of pairs of unsexy cotton ones, will they do?"

"Definitely," he agreed.

They finished showering, then dried each other off with two of their new bath towels, one of several house-warming gifts from Francine and Clive. Then John wrapped Martha in another towel and picked her up in his arms.

"I can walk you know!" she protested feebly.

"Of course you can," he answered, "but I want to carry you over the threshold of our room for our first night in it."

"You're such a romantic," she said softly, secretly very pleased by the idea.

"You only just worked that out Dr Jones?" he asked, teasingly.

Martha shook her head. "No, I've known for ages." She stretched her neck so she could kiss his cheek as he stepped into their room.

"So what comes next Dr M?" she asked as he set her down in the middle of their large bed.

"Well, I thought we might give each other a nice massage," he suggested.

"That does sound nice," she agreed, sitting up. "My massage oils are in the top right hand drawer of the dressing table."

While John got the box out of the drawer, Martha unwrapped the towel and spread it out to protect the bedding (another parental house warming gift). She accepted the box from him, then gestured for him to lie down.

"I thought I'd massage you first," he said.

"Whose oils are they?" she asked.

"Yours."

"Then I choose to give you a massage first." She waited while he stretched out on his stomach, then uncapped one of the bottles.

"Which one are you using?" asked John.

"You tell me," she said, pouring some into her hand and then rubbing her hands together to warm the oil before she began to massage his neck and shoulders.

"Mmm, Jasmine and Ylang-Ylang," he said, "I like that one."

"I know you do," Martha answered, moving her hands down to his shoulder blades.

"Seductive and erotic, just like you." He turned his head to look at her over his shoulder, desire obvious in his eyes.

"Lie still," she chided.

"Yes ma'am!"

Martha laughed softly at his response, massaging lower down his back. She'd picked this particular oil knowing that it was the most effective in stimulating them both – not that they needed much stimulation tonight, but it smelled nice too.

By the time she reached his buttocks, John was moaning softly and trying to stifle his urge to move: he desperately wanted to roll over, grab Martha and shag her, but he knew she'd get cross if he moved before she had finished.

Finally she sat back on her heels. "Finished."

"Thank god!" he exclaimed. "You've been driving me mad for at least five minutes." He rolled over and she smirked at the sight of his erection springing free.

"C'mere you!" he growled, pulled her towards him.

She giggled and allowed him to move her into position so that she was straddling him. They both moaned as she sank down his hard length, then she leaned forward, putting her hands either side of his shoulders and allowing his cock to almost slide out of her throbbing centre; her breasts brushed against John's chest and he moaned, then moaned a second time as she slid back down until he was buried inside her.

"You're a torturer," he whispered.

She smirked at him, then moved forwards again, faster this time, and dipped her head to give him a quick, hard kiss. He reached up and held her hips as she began to move backwards and forwards, moving faster each time, and as he felt his orgasm building, he moved a hand between their bodies until one long finger found her clit and began to stroke her in time to her movements on his cock.

"That feels good," she murmured, feeling her own orgasm beginning to build up, then it swept over her, and she moaned his name.

"Oh god, Martha!" John gasped as her muscles tightened around him, tipping him over the edge.

She slumped down on top of him, breathing heavily, and he wrapped his arms around her, stroking her back.

"All right?" he asked after a few moments.

Martha lifted her head and kissed him quickly. "I'm good."

He laughed. "Martha, you're better than good."

"You know what I mean," she protested.

"And you know I'm right," he answered.

She ducked her head down to his shoulder, embarrassed as usual by his compliments.

"Right, my turn to give you a massage now."

Martha rolled off him, and then stretched out on her belly, her head resting on her folded arms. She murmured appreciatively when John began to massage her neck and shoulders with long, firm strokes.

"Don't go to sleep on me," he reminded her. That had happened a couple of times when he'd given her a massage in the past, and normally he didn't mind, but tonight he wanted her to stay awake until he'd finished the massage.

"I won't."

Once John was satisfied that Martha's muscles were all fully relaxed, he got her turn onto her back and began to kiss a path up her body from her feet to her mouth, his own mouth skirting around her sex, although he knew she was aroused by the massage oil, just as he had been.

"You are such a gorgeous woman, and I can't tell you how happy it makes me to know that I'm going to be sharing even more with you from now on." He put his hands on either side of her head and looked down into her face, his own expression one of love and joy.

"I'm happy that you're happy," she said, sliding her arms around his neck, "and I'm happy to be living with you."

He ducked his head and kissed her, then began to kiss a path back down her body again. Martha moaned lightly when his tongue lapped at the edges of her sex, then groaned when he slid a finger inside her and began to stroke her carefully until she was squirming and gasping his name as her orgasm washed through her, leaving her trembling in its wake.

He crawled back up the bed beside her to kiss her, then he moved the towel off the bed before they snuggled up together.

"Do you want me to put my pyjamas on?" Martha asked sleepily.

John gave a snort of laughter. "Not unless you want to," he answered.

"Well you were the one who was going on about my unsexy pyjamas," she said with a giggle.

"I know. You're not cold are you?"

"Not at the moment."

"Then you can leave them off. I'll see you in them some other time."

"'kay." She settled more comfortably in his arms, and soon fell asleep. John stayed awake a little while longer, savouring the knowledge that they were now living together. He felt a little nervous about it, and he knew Martha did too, but he was determined they would be happy together. After a few more minutes, he fell asleep too, smiling at the prospect of sharing everything with Martha from now on.

An Interlude in the Heat of Summer [Snapshot #3], Part 1/1

2008-09-12T21:02:59Z

Title: An Interlude in the Heat of Summer [Snapshot #3]
Author: radiantbaby
Characters/Pairings: Dr. John/Martha [Note: Dr. John was a David Tennant character in the "Reproduction" episode of “Love in the 21st Century”]
Word Count: 1227 [in Word]
Genre: AU, PWP smut
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Post-S3 Doctor Who
Summary: Newly in love, John and Martha have a sexy interlude in an alleyway. Crossover of Doctor Who and "Love in the 21st Century"
Beta: persiflage_1
Disclaimer: ~~All your Doctor Who are belong to us~~ Sadly, I own nothing related to Doctor Who et al, nor do I own anything related to “Love in the 21st Century” – I am just playing around in their sandbox for a bit of fun.

Author Notes: So, I’ve been having an unfortunate bout of writer’s block on two other stories I am working on (sorry abstruse_fangrl! *pout*), so I decided to take a break from them and challenge myself to write something else instead (to get those creative juices flowing again and all that). This is the result – the pure, unadulterated smutty result, that is. It is admittedly a bit shorter than what I usually write, but I think that suits the tone of the piece.

This is Part Three in a group of short pieces that will act as supplements to the main series in this ficverse. persiflage_1 and I have decided to call these little detours "Snapshots" and, as implied, they will be ficlets that are dispersed throughout the timeline, filling in little gaps here and there.

This particular story takes place during the time between my story Staring Off a Cliff and persiflage_1’s story Martha Jones, Storyteller. You can probably enjoy this piece if you’ve not read either of those stories, but it may make more sense if you have.

Anyway, as always, thanks so much as always to persiflage_1 who beta’d this piece! Any other mistakes are all mine. Feedback is happy-making, so please leave a word or two [even if I am a bit slack in responding, your comments always make my day].

===

[Fic Banner by radiantbaby]

+ + +

The rain fell around them – drenching their clothes and cascading in warm rivulets down their bodies – as the steam from the pavement rose and curled around them in a hazy curtain of heat.

On another night he might complain about how his jeans were stuck to his thighs rather uncomfortably, the awkwardly draped fabric scratching just a little bit at the tender skin there. On another night she might complain that she needed to be in bed for work the next day or that she was embarrassed about their rendezvous’ close proximity to the main thoroughfare (where they could be caught quite easily, she might say, if someone happened to walk down the alley).

This night was different though. This night saw worries cast away alongside lingering inhibitions.

This night was theirs.

John pushed against Martha as her legs wrapped tightly around his waist, urgently thrusting himself against her, as he held her against the wall of the alleyway. His body was practically trembling with desire and, as such, he grunted and groaned and gasped and moaned with each movement, his mouth pressed tight against the column of her neck – deeply inhaling the scent of her skin, of her hair, of her very essence – as his cries lay muffled there.

He’d felt consumed by an overwhelming need that seemed almost impossible to quench and there was a part of him that felt as if Martha – his beautiful Martha – was feeling the same intensity he was.

It hadn’t taken much for him to get that point, truth be told – a few smiles from her across the room, sultry lingering gazes that spoke volumes of what she wanted to do to him (and, more to the point, what she wanted him to do to her), and, most agonizing for him, occasional discreet brushes of her knuckles across his growing hardness under their table, as she would sit next to him, feigning innocence as she spoke with some of their fellow doctors at the pub.

They’d waited for everyone they knew to leave and then – possibly more forcefully than he would have preferred – John practically pulled Martha by the hand down a nearby alley. He knew that he couldn’t wait until they were back at either of their flats, knowing full well that their journey home on the Tube would inevitably feel as if it were stretching out into an unbearable eternity of longing and aching need.

No, he needed her now and the frisson of excitement that rushed through his limbs as he pulled her into the shadows, succumbing to the urgency of his desire, only seemed to fuel that arousal.

Once hidden in the darkness, with nothing but the sounds of the night around them and the warmth of the summer rain, they’d launched themselves at one another in a flurry of passion and lust. Things were more rushed than practiced at first – teeth knocking against teeth as they kissed, stumbling over one another and against the wall with a hard thump as their hands quickly moved over one another’s bodies, yanking at any fabrics that were obstacles to what they both wanted –

Soon John was inside her though, cooing and moaning as her warm wetness enveloped him and he began to push and pull and push and pull against her. He kept one hand below her bottom -- trying to help her stay balanced against the wall after she’d climbed up onto him, straddling him as they stood – and the other was wrenched between them, as his long fingers flicked and rubbed her clit.

John could tell by her breathing, a slight hissing sound that filled the air around them, that Martha was biting her lip to keep herself (mostly) quiet. He’d momentarily frowned a bit about that – he’d wanted her to scream and let herself go in the moment, just as he’d wanted to scream and shout and just announce to everyone everywhere how good she felt, and how happy he was and how much he loved this tiny woman in his arms. He knew that they needed to be as silent as possible though, the warning striking him as quickly as the more rebellious thoughts had.

He was certainly not worried about the prospect of being found in such a compromising position by a stranger (the idea actually rather turned him on, if he were honest), but as he moved against her, he’d actually begun to notice there was another part of him – a louder, stronger part – that suddenly wanted this moment to stay between him and Martha only.

There was something about the mix of ardor and wet and heat that John now knew would be seared forever into his consciousness, to be remembered on colder days far in his future, probably even stirring him enough to take himself into his fist to pull pleasure from his body from the rush of memory. This something – this amazing, magical something – should not, he felt, be lost to an interruption by an outsider.

No, he’d thought, that would feel too much like being forcibly jarred awake from a pleasurable dream that leaves you desperately grasping at the final pieces of its puzzle before it fades forever from your thoughts.

Martha was keening now, pulling his attention back to her as her thighs pressed tightly against the bones of his hips and her orgasm swelled through her. The greedy pulling of the muscles of her sex milked him deliciously as he’d buried himself deeply inside her and almost immediately pulled his own climax to the surface. He almost gasped at the sheer ferocity of it as it hit him, his body shuddering as it jolted through him, wave after wave of glorious pleasure, until his body finally fell limp against her.

“I love you,” he panted, helping Martha slowly slide from him and down his hips to stand, no longer caring at all about denim scratching him.

“I love you,” she echoed softly, her forehead now resting against his chest as her arm still draped loosely around his shoulder.

Neither of them moved for a few minutes, for which John was relieved. The truth was, he’d almost felt his knees buckle at her words – the newness and gravity of that simple phrase still wanting to pull him right down to the ground, prostrate in sheer amazement and in awe. At least with more power than he was ready to let on about just yet, that is. The words were still so very fresh between them, weaving them together as they worked to see how the pieces of their souls fit together, even if such a deep union still frightened him to his very core.

Finally they moved, pushing off the wall as John pushed down his fears. They walked hand in hand through the rain to the Tube station and, while it seemed as if people were staring at their disheveled dampness on the ride back to his flat, it didn’t matter to John. All that mattered was the soft warm body tiredly draped against his side and how, just that night, he’d let himself lose a tiny bit more of himself (bits culled from that latent negativity that usually seemed to blight any happiness for him) to the rush of rainwater on the ground of that alleyway, some old tears finally lost amidst that running tide.

John/Martha/Ten Headers

2008-09-05T22:01:49Z

radiantbaby here.

So, in a fit of impulsiveness [and a bit of procrastination regarding other things I should have been working on, to be honest] yesterday afternoon, I decided that I wanted a John/Martha/Ten header for my personal journal.

I'm not the best graphic artist, but I decided to play around a bit with some pictures in the GIMP and came up with one.

I'm still not sure how much I like it just yet, but I still decided to share both it and some of the other incarnations of it for any of you that might be interested.

[1]

[2]

[3]

[4]

[5]

[6] -- [this one is on my personal journal at the moment]

[7]

[8]

[9]

[10]

Please credit me [radiantbaby] if you use any of them.

And oh goodness, now I am half-inspired to make a John/Martha/Ten/Jack one at some point [to acknowledge all the players in the series].

O_o

Speaking of the series, I am starting to wonder if it needs a name -- what do you guys think?

Oh, and I have another story in the works [this one being a Ten/John fic, inspired by abstruse_fangrl], so keep an eye out for that. :)

Control [Snapshot #2]

2008-08-21T14:15:00Z

Title: Control [Snapshot #2]
Author: radiantbaby
Characters/Pairings: Dr. John/Martha [Note: Dr. John was a David Tennant character in the “Reproduction” episode of “Love in the 21st Century”]
Word Count: 5357 [in Word]
Genre: AU, fluffy, schmoopy smut, with a big heaping side of angst
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Post-S3 Doctor Who, Post-S2 Torchwood’s "Reset"
Summary: Ever since he quit smoking a week before, John’s been murder to live with. Can Martha help ease his resulting irritability? And when she does attempt, will it result in bringing up ghosts from her own past? Crossover of Doctor Who and "Love in the 21st Century"
Warnings: Kink (light bondage and light D/s play), some bad language, and a tiny bit of rough sex
Beta: persiflage_1
Disclaimer: ~~All your Doctor Who are belong to us~~ Sadly, I own nothing related to Doctor Who et al, nor do I own anything related to "Love in the 21st Century" – I am just playing around in their sandbox for a bit of fun.

Author Notes: For angelfireeast, who requested bondage with a tie (as inspired by her banner), frustrations from John over quitting smoking (and the use of bondage to relieve it), and John/Martha attending a ball wearing the clothes in her banner. I hope this meets her expectations!

This is Part Two in a group of short pieces that will act as supplements to the main series in this ficverse. persiflage_1 and I have decided to call these little detours "Snapshots" and, as implied, they will be ficlets that are dispersed throughout the timeline, filling in little gaps here and there.

This particular story takes place during the time between persiflage_1’s Trusting You and my story Not With a Bang, But With a Whimper. You can probably enjoy this piece if you’ve not read either of those stories, but it may make more sense if you have.

Anyway, as always, thanks so much as always to the magnificent persiflage_1 who beta’d this piece! Any other mistakes are all mine. Feedback is happy-making, so please leave a word or two [even if I am a bit slack in responding, your comments always make my day].

===

[Fic Banner by angelfireeast]

+ + +

“Your hair, it is getting so long,” Martha observed as she pulled John’s hair between her fingers, as they lay in bed together after waking up that morning, “I thought you were going to finally get it cut before the ball.”

“I’ve been a bit busy and preoccupied, Martha. I can’t be perfect little Johnny all the time,” he snapped, getting up out of bed to rummage through their wardrobe to get dressed.

Martha flinched inwardly at his reaction.

He’d quit smoking a week before and between his resultant withdrawal symptoms and stress at work (one of the other doctors had been out for a few days with a bad stomach flu, so John was filling in for several surgeries during his already packed work schedule), he’d been irritable and restless all week.

He’d also been murder to live with.

In a show of staunch stubbornness – proclaiming rather vehemently that he was stronger than his addiction and could handle things on his own – John had chosen to quit smoking without the help of any medical intervention. Martha had tried to steer him away from quitting in such a way, pointing to many of the medical treatments at their disposal, but had been unsuccessful, as he wasn’t having any of it.

He was nearly impossible to sway when he truly focused on something – it was a big part of what made him such an amazing doctor, a wonderfully devoted lover, but now, quite unfortunately for Martha, it also made him an ill-tempered wreck.

Martha’s eyes roved over his naked form facing away from her as he stood across the room, taking in all his delicious curves and angles, and the soft swell of his buttocks and the dimples curved in the skin above it. She then slipped from the bed herself and slowly walked over to stand beside him at the open wardrobe.

“Where did you get this tie?” she asked, fingering the tie hanging with the black pinstripe suit he planned on wearing that night.

The two of them were going to be attending a benefit ball for the hospital and while John had been moaning about not wanting to go all week – “last thing the world needs to see is me in a suit and tie” – she knew that he was also looking forward to it on some level, as he was one of the doctors being honoured for his tireless work at Royal Hope.

“Dr. Bradshaw lent it to me,” John replied, his tone still clipped and curt, as he looked for a shirt to wear to work.

Martha smiled at how it had already been loosely knotted as it hung there, looped around the hanger, and wondered with amusement if perhaps John didn’t know how to tie one himself.

“Having a tie around reminds me of other things,” she said seductively, slipping her fingers up and down the length of the gold tie. She then turned and dragged her fingernails up his bare back. “Do you remember that first night I tied you up?”

John shuddered at her touch, the tension in his back starting to dissipate slightly. “Yes,” he said, in a half-whimper.

Martha continued to stroke his back, leaving faint red marks on his flesh where she lightly scratched him. She knew he loved it when she did that to him, especially when he was pressed between her legs, moving within her as her arms and legs wrapped around him.

Nails digging into his skin at such intimate times always caused him to buck against her wildly like an animal, groaning and growling until he called out in release.

“I was thinking that perhaps you might be able to use that tie tonight, after the ball, to tie me up. Perhaps you could work out some of your frustrations on me,” she said, sliding a hand around his waist to caress his belly and pressing her bare breasts against his back, “I think we both need to get rid of some tension, don’t you think?”

John turned suddenly, so swiftly that it caused Martha to gasp when he now faced her, drawing her tight against his body with his hands cupping her bottom. She could feel his arousal pressed hard against her abdomen and, as she looked up at him, she noticed his gaze – moments ago distant and annoyed – was now filled with desire.

“You could say that,” he said with growl, leaning down to savagely kiss her neck.

Martha could feel her body starting to react to him. The two of them hadn’t had sex during that entire week -- John was often too withdrawn and moody to either be receptive to her advances or apparently to initiate his own. She had to admit it was slightly worrying, especially since after moving in together, their sex life was usually much more active.

In fact, before he quit smoking, hardly a day would pass without John seducing her – often at the most surprising times actually, such as when she was folding her laundry, helping him with the dishes, or just quietly reading.

Most of those times she’d hardly felt particularly sexy, but nevertheless he would just suddenly look at her with a mischievous glint in his eye and push her flat against the couch or lift her onto a tabletop, whispering over and over against her skin how happy he was to have her living with him.

Now he was kissing her again with that passion she’d been missing so much from him over the last few days, but she knew that unfortunately, she needed to stop him. She started to push from him, finding it difficult as he was holding her rather tightly – almost desperately, to her surprise – to him.

“Now, now. You need to get to work.”

“Work can wait just a bit,” he grunted, running his tongue along the column of her neck before pulling her earlobe between his teeth. She hissed in both pleasure and pain as he bit down.

“Now, John, I know for a fact you have the Patterson surgery this morning and you need to leave for that very soon.”

John pulled from her, almost as abruptly as he’d pulled her into his arms in the first place. His gaze had now shifted from desire to what seemed like worry and she watched him swallow hard.

“Don’t you want me?” he asked, sounding small and dejected as his eyes searched hers.

“Of course I do, but,” she waved her hands in the air in sweeping exasperated circles, inwardly cursing his poor timing, “you barely have enough time to shave and shower as it is.”

John rolled his eyes at her, turning to practically yank a shirt and a pair of trousers from the wardrobe. He then pulled out a pair of underwear from one of the drawers and walked around her, angrily tossing his collected clothes onto the bed.

“John, where are you going?”

“Got to get that shower taken care of, haven’t I? Perfect Johnny can’t be late to work or the whole world might end,” he spat, walking determinedly into the en suite and slamming the door behind him.

Martha jumped at the harsh bang of the door. John only ever went on his “Perfect Johnny” rants when he was really upset, saying once in a quieter moment that it had likely come out of the emotional abuse he’d received from his mother before she died and had been a hard emotional habit – his “broken crutch,” he would call it – for him to break after all these years.

Martha had to admit that she hated when he did it, knowing that it was just an acerbic mask he hid behind when he was feeling attacked and very vulnerable (regressing to that scared, hurt child from his past). Even worse for her, though, was that in those darker moments, he was reticent to let her try to assuage that vulnerability within him and assure him that he needn’t be perfect – he just needed to be him, the man she loved with all her heart.

After dealing with the Doctor, Martha found herself especially sensitive to being pushed away emotionally by someone so dear to her – even if, in John’s case, it was usually very fleeting and rare.

Unfortunately, the occasions of being pricked by his “Perfect Johnny” barbs was happening with far more frequency during that last week. She was not used to dealing with such a matter so repeatedly (and with such intensity, to be honest), so she found herself hoping that as the nicotine cravings eased within him, such rants might go away as well.

She walked over and pressed her ear against the wood of the door and frowned when she heard the shower wasn’t running. She knew that he often wanted to be left alone when he was like this, but she was often just as stubborn as he was and could not just sit back without at least attempting to resolve things – especially when she knew he actually needed her, despite any protests he might petulantly hide behind.

Martha knocked on the door and when there was no reply, she decided to knock a bit harder. She was still only met with silence on the other end, so she reached down to try the doorknob, but noticed as she tried to turn it that it was locked.

“I’ll be in the kitchen making myself some breakfast if you want to talk,” she spoke firmly through the door, pausing for a moment to keep her own emotions in check. “I love you.”

---

Martha was about to prepare herself a bowl of cereal when the soft weight of a hand on her shoulder caused her to jump. She dropped the box of cereal and turned around quickly to see its origin – standing before her was John, a lost and forlorn look on his face and his eyes wet with tears.

“I’m so sorry,” he said softly, his voice wavering a bit, “Please don’t be angry with me. Please.”

Martha simply closed the space between them in response, wrapping her arms around his waist to pull him into an embrace. “It’s okay, I’m not angry, a little overwhelmed by all this, but not angry,” she whispered, feeling saddened herself as she could feel him trembling against her.

They stood there quietly for a long moment, just silently holding one another until John finally pulled from her. He looked down at her, moving a hand up to nestle his fingers in her hair. “You don’t deserve me being like this to you, being this…monster. I really don’t want to make you leave. I don’t know what I would do if I ran you off,” he said, his voice hoarse and weak as he ran the fingertips of his free hand along the lapel of her dressing gown.

“John, you’re fighting a strong addiction and dealing with a lot of stress at work right now at the same time. It’s hard, but I know you don’t mean to be this way.”

“It’s just that it feels like I keep watching myself doing and saying such awful things and I can’t stop myself. I only wanted to be healthier, to take care of myself now that I have something – someone – that makes me want to treat myself better that I used to. I never wanted this,” he said sadly.

He leaned his forehead down to press against hers as the fingers in her hair slid down to caress the nape of her neck. Martha leaned back into his ministrations and then sighed. “We’ll make it through this, it will be alright.”

“I’m going to make an appointment with Dr. Reynolds, who I’ve heard volunteers for a helpline for smokers, to discuss some medicinal options I can possibly use. I hope that I can perhaps get some more information about what nicotinic receptor antagonists or nicotinic receptor partial agonists are available to me and what he would suggest.”

“No longer doing it on your own then?”

“No, I think I should’ve listened to my doctor, Dr. Jones, in the first place and not been such a obstinate bastard,” he said, pulling back with an indulgent smirk, before placing a quick kiss on her lips. “I really should get ready. I love you.”

---

Martha walked out of the UNIT building, hoping to enjoy the rare bit of sunshine that day as she walked to a nearby café for lunch. She stopped in surprise just outside, though, when she spied John in the car park, leaning against his car with a smile on his face and three sunflowers in his hand.

She approached him, her heart racing as soon as his smile widened upon seeing her. Even after dating him for about ten months, there was still many times that just a simple smile from him filled her with such grand elation. “What are you doing here?”

“Was able to take a break at work and thought I’d drop by and see if you wanted lunch with me,” he offered with a shrug and then thrust his hand out toward her, “Oh, and these are for you. I thought a sunny day called for sunflowers, plus I hoped they might help toward making up for this morning, or…this whole week actually.”

Martha took the flowers from his hand and stood up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “Thank you. I’m just surprised you didn’t call. I mean, considering – “ she paused, blushing.

Since they’d both left for work that morning, over the last few hours they’d been sending one another sporadic but lewd text messages about what they wanted to do to one another after the ball that night. They’d not had such lascivious text conversations in recent months, but now that they’d resumed, that old thrill yet again sparked a luscious arousal in Martha throughout her workday.

“I just thought asking in person was better, besides,” he moved closer to her, drawing her into his arms, “I wanted to see you.”

Martha could feel the hardness bent within his jeans pressing against her and smiled to herself. “I can see that,” she cooed, slipping her free hand briefly between them to clandestinely brush against his arousal with her sweeping fingertips.

John grunted in response. “You tease,” he hissed.

“Lunch?” she sing-songed, pulling back from him with a coy smile.

“There are certainly other things I’d rather be doing with my mouth, but I’m here to take you to lunch and so I shall,” he said, leaning close to her with his voice low, “but that doesn’t mean I’m not thinking up all sorts of punishments for you for teasing me all morning.”

---

“You know you look absolutely stunning tonight, don’t you?” John asked, almost breathlessly as he moved slowly with her on the dance floor.

He’d been apparently itching to leave once he’d received his honour – such adulation making him feel a bit self-conscious – but Martha convinced him to slow dance with her for a little bit, wanting to draw out their day-long seduction just that tiny bit longer.

“You like the dress then? I thought it would be a great surprise. Tish picked it out, said she was sure that you’d love it.”

John glanced down at her, his gaze furtively dancing along her bare skin – exposed from the strapless dress – before it dipped down to trace the curve of her cleavage. He then drew his eyes back up to hers again, a puckish smile now on his face. “Yes, I’d have to agree with Tish. In fact, I think I might buy her a nice bottle of wine or something as a thank you gift.”

Martha laughed. “The funny thing is, I can completely see you doing that. ‘Thanks Tish for Martha’s fuck-me dress’ or something equally as naughty.”

“Fuck-me dress? Is that a thinly veiled request?” he asked, leaning down to kiss her neck.

She shivered. Even though his kisses were chaste as there were many other doctors and various community members dancing around them, there was something so simplistically seductive in the soft way his lips caressed her skin. She knew, without a doubt, she was not going to be able to hold on much longer.

“Not so thinly veiled, I should think,” Martha said, trying to concentrate on her words and not the fact that each brush of his lips on her neck was resulting in a heady throbbing between her legs.

“Is that a request to leave then?” he asked, his tone playful, though his kisses pressed hot against her skin in what was definitely a non-playful way.

“Yes,” Martha half-whimpered, closing her eyes, but within what felt like a mere second, she felt his fingers lace with hers and him pulling her out of there hastily.

---

Martha pulled John by his tie through the hallway and into their bedroom, wrapping it around her finger once they were near the bed, drawing him close. In response, he leaned down and kissed her ardently, his hands gently sliding up and down her sides, pulling her dress up inch-by-inch each time they trailed upward. He then nudged her carefully backward, her fingers releasing the tie to let it unfurl with a snap, as she fell back against the bed.

John crawled over her supine body until he came to rest between her legs. He rutted against her for a moment – already hard pressed against his trousers – and then leaned down to kiss her neck and the slope where it met her shoulder.

“Now what was this about using my tie with you tonight?” he asked, his words heated by his breath against her skin, each syllable feeling as if it were stoking her own fire.

“I was thinking you could use it to tie me up and work out some of your frustrations from the week,” Martha said, her words quickly becoming more and more laced with moans as he nipped at her skin.

“We haven’t done any bondage in quite a while.”

“True, but there’s been the promise of you and a tie specifically, since, oh, months ago when I tied you up for the first time with the sash from your dressing gown.”

John shifted backward so that he was now kneeling before her and pulled at the knot to open his tie. “And how convenient that you have a strapless dress on so I can tie you up right now without undressing you first,” he said, twining the tie around his finger after he slid it off with a crisp rustling sound from dragging against the fabric of his collar.

“That did occur to me, yes,” she said with a wink.

“Arms above your head,” John said, his voice now taking on a brusque and commanding tone.

“And why should I do that?”

“Oh, so you’re going to be willful in your submission to me tonight? Does that mean I’ll need to break you?”

“I’d like to see you try. One of the deadliest men in the universe couldn’t break me, so I doubt that you can.”

John reached down quickly, eliciting a surprised gasp from her as he grabbed her arms and roughly pushed them above her head. “He isn’t me,” John said, his voice low and just a little bit dangerous.

Martha only rarely played rough with John as it often made him uncomfortable, worrying that he might hurt her unintentionally in play-space. Still, during their flirty discussions of their plans for the evening throughout that day, she had given him permission to be a bit rough with her considering the circumstances. Though he was somewhat reticent when they’d discussed it, he finally relented when he knew that she would use a safe word if things got too uncomfortable for her.

John shifted to straddle her upper body, clasping her hands together with his long fingers as he used his free hand to wrap the tie around them and fasten her to the headboard. Martha squirmed a bit under him, letting her breasts brush against his erection, succumbing to a strange desire to be a challenge to him.

She watched him bite his bottom lip in reaction, but then he quickly shifted himself to her side after making sure she was securely fastened to the bedpost. He then slipped his hands beneath her, lifting her back with one as he used the other to pull down the zipper of her dress.

John yanked the dress down her torso and hips, being harsh yet oddly somewhat gentle with the fabric as he pulled it off her body and tossed it onto the floor by the bed. He then pulled off her heels one by one -- leaving her in just her bra, knickers, and tights – and then slipped off the bed, carrying the shoes over to where she usually stored them in their wardrobe.

Then, leaning slightly against the wardrobe, he stood with his arms akimbo and watched her as if to survey what he’d done. “Are you just going to stare at me all night or do something?” Martha asked him playfully.

“I think my first step in breaking you shall be leaving you alone in here a bit so that you can meditate on how disobedient you’ve been acting.”

“And what will you do?” she asked, suddenly feeling a bit nervous at his proposition.

“I think I might go and make myself a sandwich, perhaps watch a DVD or two,” he said as he shifted and started to walk toward the door.

“You’re not really leaving, are you?”

“Again, maybe this will help you rethink how disobedient you’ve been acting and maybe it will help you finally behave,” he said evenly, walking out of the room and closing the door behind him.

Martha stared at the closed door in shock for a moment, but found herself smiling when it opened again a few seconds later.

“I knew you were bluffing,” she said with a hint of pride.

“Bluffing?” he asked with one raised eyebrow, leaning into the room between the crack of the door, “I’d just forgotten something.”

He reached over, flipped off the light switch, and then closed the door again behind him.

Martha laid in the near-darkness, the only light a faint green glow from the numbers on their alarm clock. She was surprised he’d actually left her there, especially as aroused as he was.

Surely after sexually teasing him all day, the last thing he’ll want do is wait even longer, she thought to herself.

She shifted her arms against her bonds, struggling to get free. As she tossed about the bed, other more sinister thoughts began to trickle into the edges of her thoughts. The bondage was triggering something within her and she could feel it coming on, as the memories were pressing past her mental defenses ready to break like a wave inside her.

Her mind raced to understand the mounting anxiety starting to well within her – her body already reacting to what her mind had not yet caught up to – and then she’d realized that she and John had not done any bondage since –

”Do you know what lymphocytes are, Samantha?”

Professor Copley. The Pharm. The Mayfly within her belly, extracted by Owen right before it killed her…

“I'd like to know what your funky lymphatic system makes of those imperfections.”

“I am not taking that!”

“But you volunteered.”

Martha felt her stomach begin to churn with nerves and suddenly she worried – however irrationally – that she might just have more Mayfly larvae inside her.

“John, John, red, red, red, red!” she started shrieking, calling out their safe word as she thrashed about on the bed.

The bedroom door quickly slammed open and John turned on the light as he rushed to her side. “Martha, Martha, what’s wrong?” he asked, caressing her cheek as he tried to calm her. “I’m right here, tell me what you need. I’m right here.”

“Mayfly…m-mayfly,” she stammered, trying to ease her anxiety.

John looked at her blankly for a moment before recognition crossed his features. He reached down to caress her belly, shifting his body to flank her side. “The mayflies are gone, Martha. I assure you. You are okay,” he said softly.

“The Pharm, tied up. I was so scared, so scared,” she whimpered, only managing half sentences in her panic.

John shifted to reach up toward the headboard. “There, there. Let me untie you.”

“No,” Martha said firmly, surprising herself and him with her response.

“No? Martha, I triggered you. I need to get you out of this.”

“No,” she reiterated, “I can’t let this memory haunt me, especially on nights like this where I’d hoped we’d enjoy ourselves with your tie.”

“Martha, we don’t need to keep playing with the tie, we can – “ he paused, probably due to the warning look she was sure she was giving him. He then gave a resigned sigh. “What do you need from me?”

“I want to make a new memory.”

“For this?” he asked, caressing her bound wrists with his thumb.

“For this.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, very sure.”

---

“What’s scaring you the most right now?” John asked softly as he sat next to Martha. “We’ll work on that.”

Her wrists were still tied to the headboard by her choice, but they’d agreed to talk through things and that she would ask to be released if needed.

“Lack of control.”

“Okay, what if you control me? Learn that you can stay in control even if you are tied up.”

“But we were supposed to be working out your frustrations,” Martha said with a frown.

“Well, first of all, I care too much about you to not have any problems with easily setting aside those desires to help you instead. Secondly, I think you’ve distracted me quite well at the moment, which goes a lot toward my frustration relief, I must say. And finally, I’m honestly a bit overwhelmed with all that I’m juggling at the moment, so I think giving up control will do me some good as well.”

“Okay.”

Martha was still a bit unsure, if she were honest. She could tell that John had in fact been distracted of course – instantly recognizing that part of his personality she often jokingly referred to as “healer mode” evident in his manner – but as she so often felt in the past when that powerful focus of his was on her, she was a bit uncomfortable.

As a healer herself, she liked to focus her energy outward, to focus on the healing of others, but when such a microscope was turned on her (especially from someone who cared as deeply for her as John did and who wouldn’t let her hide her feelings from him), she had to admit that she often felt like a cornered animal.

“I love you,” John said softly, reaching over to caress her cheek as he brought her thoughts back to the present. “Tell me what you want me to do.”

“I want…to remember what it feels like to enjoy being tied up again.”

---

Martha’s head lolled back against the pillow as John slowly dragged his tongue against the folds of her sex. He’d ever so slowly taken the rest of her clothes off, caressing and kissing every inch of her skin as he exposed it, taking breaks to softly massage the muscles of her arms taut above her head – all as if worshipping her – and now he was circling her body with gentle kisses and licks, languidly mapping each and every curve of her with his mouth.

She’d learned to not feel so self-conscious anymore when he did such things – instead letting herself get lost in the praises he would press against her each time his lips or tongue would touch her skin (as if trying to leave an indelible impression of his feelings on her very flesh), knowing how much he relished any opportunity to enjoy her in this way.

He’d always say how much he loved to just lose himself in her, and, in those moments, sparks of insecurity that crept out of dark corners into her consciousness would leave her to pray hard that she would never lose him from her life.

This time, he’d slowly drawn her arousal up to the point that she was now begging him to make her come, aching from him kindling the flames beneath her skin that hotly rushed through her veins and coiled in her belly and legs, until she felt she might just burst.

It was nice to take such time with each other again, as lately they were often prone to having more fervid trysts instead – which, with them pushing each other passionately against walls and practically tearing one another’s clothes off in voracious desire, have their own high points as well.

Still, slowing things down – enjoying one another in those protracted languorous moments, as time seemed to just ease by – did have its gratifying benefits as well.

“Make you come?” John murmured, his breathing hot against the skin of her sex.

“Yes,” she whimpered.

“You’re in charge,” he said with a chuckle, but then quickly pressed his mouth harder against her, pushing his tongue inside her to stroke and curl against her vaginal walls.

Martha shuddered, arching her body against his soft penetration, rutting herself against his nose and lips as she delighted in that building tingling friction between them. Soon his finger replaced his tongue and his lips wrapped around her hardened clit, suckling as he eased another finger inside her and slowly dragged them in and out of her, crooking them upward.

Her body trembled against him and she pulled tight against her bonds as the tension rose steadily within her until her pleasure crested and she rode the wave of her orgasm – shouting a string of expletives and praises to deities she wasn’t even sure existed -- until it tapered into breathy gasps and moans.

She lay with her eyes shut, only vaguely aware of John’s movements as he pulled his fingers and mouth from her, but opened them wide in a throaty grunt when she felt him suddenly enter her, pushing himself deep inside her as he pulled her legs up to rest on his shoulders.

“Yes,” he hissed, just slowly rutting against her in small circles as he pressed tightly against her, before pulling out and slamming back against her, harder this time. She called out his name, moving her hips against him, meeting each thrust, as she wanted nothing more than to connect with him as deeply as possible.

Martha smiled at the growls emanating from his delicate reddened lips, as always loving the sounds he made when he was with her – from the clipped grunts to the wispy moans to the throaty howls that twisted like a song into her name when he climaxed – Oh, Martha, yes, Martha, Martha, Martha –

And just then he was coming against her – grinding and growling and grunting and howling – and all of the frustrations from the week seemed to ease from him with each sharp utterance puncturing that hanging tension in the air around them.

John then fell bonelessly against her, breathing heavy and warm against her shoulder as he whispered his affections in a string of quiet murmurs.

Soon propped up onto his elbows, concern was now evident in his eyes as he reached to massage her arms with his thumbs. “How are you, my darling?” he whispered. “Shall I free you now?”

“I think so, I’m starting to get a bit sore,” she replied, her wrists squirming a bit against the fabric of the tie.

John shifted to lie beside her and reached upward to deftly untie her. Once freed, he then tossed the tie onto the floor beside the bed and quickly grabbed her wrists, pressing kisses against the light red marks coloring them.

He whispered to her in between each kiss, as his soft lips began to cool her heated flesh, “I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you...”

Fanart

2008-08-12T06:10:48Z

tardis_mafia has a couple of Martha/Dr John/Ten banners over here, inspired by radiantbaby's fic A Bizarre Love Triangle.

A Thousand Pieces [Snapshot #1], Part 1/1

2008-08-10T09:29:29Z

Title: A Thousand Pieces [Snapshot #1]
Author: radiantbaby
Characters/Pairings: Martha/Dr John [Note: Dr. John was a David Tennant character in the “Reproduction” episode of “Love in the 21st Century”]
Word Count: 6507 [in Word]
Genre: AU, fluffy schmoop, with a side of angst
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Post-S3 Doctor Who, I suppose
Summary: John takes Martha on a mini-break as old ghosts are stirred up and new future possibilities are opened up between them. Crossover of Doctor Who and “Love in the 21st Century”
Beta: persiflage_1
Disclaimer: ~~All your Doctor Who are belong to us~~ Sadly, I own nothing related to Doctor Who et al, nor do I own anything related to “Love in the 21st Century” – I am just playing around in their sandbox for a bit of fun.

Author Notes: This is Part One in a group of short pieces that will act as supplements to the main series in this ficverse. persiflage_1 and I have decided to call these little detours “Snapshots” and, as implied, they will be ficlets that are dispersed throughout the timeline, filling in little gaps here and there.

This particular story takes place during the months between persiflage_1’s Martha Jones, Storyteller and Trusting You. You can probably enjoy this piece if you’ve not read either of those stories, but it may make more sense if you have.

We will also be writing regular, non-supplemental fics for the series as well (i.e. to keep carrying the timeline forward) as we go, but those will be interspersed with the “Snapshots.”

Oh and if you have any prompt ideas for future “Snapshots” or other fics for the timeline, please be sure to drop a comment on the prompt post.

Anyway, as always, thanks so much as always to the magnificent persiflage_1 who beta’d this piece! Any other mistakes are all mine. Feedback is happy-making, so please leave a word or two [even if I am a bit slack in responding, your comments always make my day].

===

“Pack up some things, I’ve got a big surprise in store for you,” John said excitedly as Martha returned home to her flat from work.

Unlike John, she had been unable to get the entire day off – needing to cover a partial shift at UNIT until 1:00 that afternoon – but she had told him several times how she was looking forward to the next four days off with him.

After working extended days the last two weeks in a row on an important medical research project (something about cataloguing alien diseases on Earth, but Martha wasn’t allowed to give him any more details than that), he could see her apparent exhaustion as soon as she walked through the door.

Still, it all made him even more eager for their mini-break ahead, especially as he had been formulating many plans to take good care of her over next few days. He was just happy that he was able to negotiate some time off at the hospital himself, with Dr. Harris – a young Doctor who John had covered several shifts for over the past few months – dutifully filling in for him.

“Pack?” Martha pouted, “All I want is a hot bath and to get some sleep.”

“You can sleep on the way as the drive is rather long. As for the bath,” he replied walking up to her. He began massaging her shoulders from behind and Martha let out a deep sigh in response to his ministrations. “I promise one as soon as we get there. I plan on making this a very comfortable and relaxing few days for you, with me at your beck and call.”

“Beck and call, eh?”

John leaned down to kiss Martha’s neck. “Yes,” he breathed.

---

The drive was somewhat long, but thankfully, John thought, mostly easy and uneventful as well. Martha was by his side as he drove, quietly curled up in the passenger seat with her jacket draped across her lap as she fell in and out of sleep, sharing a few words here and there with him in those fleeting moments she was awake.

He couldn’t help smiling as he stole glances over at her as she slept, reveling in that intense swell of feeling that would suddenly rush through his limbs so very often, simply just from her proximity.

Part of him still could not believe that he had been so drawn to take her to Scotland for their holiday together. Seven hours drive was a long way to travel for the two of them – further than they’d ever been since they’d been together, really.

He’d also not been up there for almost ten years now, of course, not since he’d fled his old life and settled in Manchester for medical school after his mum’s death, and certainly not since he’d started avoiding it as it was the seat of so many bad memories for him.

He’d been dreaming of it a lot lately, though – night after night dreaming of his old home. It was as if it was calling him back and he knew, no matter how hard he might try, that he couldn’t hide from the pull of its siren song much longer.

Those old ghosts inside him were raucously stirring and while there was a fearful part of him that wanted to turn off the road to go somewhere else instead (perhaps the North of England, yes, maybe Manchester or somewhere else, he would find himself thinking in spots of panic), there was another part that pushed onward to their destination.

“Where are we going?” Martha murmured, stirring a bit in her sleep. “You never said.”

“It’s a surprise,” he said softly, a lump catching in his throat, despite trying not to be affected. He reached over and quickly caressed her arm with a knuckle before turning back to driving. “Now go back to sleep, we should be there in about two hours or so and I want you to be awake enough for your bubble bath tonight.”

“Mmm, you’re too good to me, John,” she cooed, shifting to pull her jacket up over her arms before she fell back asleep.

He smiled to himself, enjoying listening to her soft sighs as she slept. If anyone could help him overcome his deep fears of setting foot in Scotland again, he knew that his beautiful Martha could. She had always grounded him like no one else, always settled those rattling ghosts that would occasionally seep through the cracks of his happiness and haunt him.

Despite this insistent pull northward, though, he knew he wasn’t quite ready to walk the streets of Glasgow again – terrified of being regressed right back to that lost boy who had walked those streets so many years before – so he’d compromised a bit with himself and decided on visiting Edinburgh instead.

He hated succumbing to that trepidation, letting it rule his decisions, but he knew he needed to take things in stages – first, visiting a neutral place in Scotland (he’d never actually been over to Edinburgh, truth be told) and then maybe, just maybe, if he felt strong enough, he might be able to bring himself to drive that hour over to his home city and walk those streets again, now as a man.

As he neared junction 13 to get onto the A702 near Abington, he felt himself tense a bit and grip the steering wheel just that little bit tighter as he saw the signs for Glasgow before him (almost tempting him to go on straight and not take the junction east), but he took a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself as he headed that last hour toward Edinburgh.

He knew it was going to be an interesting few days, but he was determined to make the best of it and perhaps, as promised, give Martha some much needed romantic and restful bliss.

---

“We’re here,” John said softly, caressing Martha’s cheek to wake her.

Martha blinked her eyes open at him and regarded him with a sweet smile that made his heart race.

“Where is here?” she asked, stretching and looking around. The car park they were in was mostly dark, save a few street lights, so John was sure she wasn’t seeing much to aid her in determining their whereabouts on her own.

“You’ll see,” he said, smiling at her before kissing her on the cheek, “let me get our bags.”

The two of them shuffled out of John’s car into the brisk night air and John found himself needing to pause for a moment. There was something in the air – something about the feel of the wind and the scents around him – that made him feel as if he were unequivocally back home. It shook him a bit, if he were honest, surprised by how things like the simple scents of the trees around him could give him such a visceral reaction to just being there again.

He sighed, his thoughts likening it to a scent of something tapping into your subconscious and pulling a long-buried memory from your childhood to the surface, even though it just hangs that little bit out of reach in your conscious mind.

“Are you alright, John? You’re positively pale all of a sudden,” Martha asked, peering over the roof of the car at him.

John shook his head, forcing himself to smile. He couldn’t let Martha worry about him. Not yet, at least. She needs to be taken care of right now, not me, he urged himself.

“Yeah,” he cleared his throat, “Just fine. A lot on my mind is all.”

He grabbed their bags from the back and locked up the car. He then offered her his free arm as she walked over to him. “Madame?”

Martha wrapped her fingers around his arm, but was still studying him intently. “Anything you want to talk about?”

“Some other time,” he said softly and turned to lead her down the tree-lined road flanked with Victorian townhouses.

---

“This is really beautiful,” Martha said with a happy sigh as she looked around their room.

They were in the top floor of the Albyn Townhouse, a converted 18th century Victorian house that now served as a Bed & Breakfast. Lydie – a lovely and gregarious woman who was the owner and their hostess – had just shown them up to their room and bid them a good night, after giving them a little bit of information on the house, their accommodations, and when breakfast would be served the next morning.

“I’m so glad you like it. I did a bunch of research online to find it, but when I saw it, I just knew I wanted to take you here,” John replied.

Martha walked over to the window to look out and John slowly made his way up behind her, resting his hands on her shoulders as she admired the view outside.

“What is that?” she asked, pointing across the way to the river nearby.

“The Water of Leith,” he answered softly.

“The Water of Leith?”

“Yes.”

He wasn’t sure if she recognized where she was yet, though he had to admit that he was enjoying watching her try to figure it out. Lydie’s Scottish brogue might have given the game away already – as would the mention of Leith, if Martha was familiar with it – but she still seemed to be piecing it all together.

“And that?” she asked, pointing elsewhere in the distance.

“That,” he kissed her hair, “would be Edinburgh Castle.”

Martha turned in his arms suddenly, looking up at him with surprise. She’d known full well of his reticence over visiting his home country from the stories he’d told her of his past. “You brought me to Scotland?”

“Aye,” he said quietly, still trying to fully take it in himself.

Martha reached up, a proud look in her eyes as she caressed his cheek. “I’m…honored,” she said softly, beaming up at him.

John felt tears prick his eyes as his love for the woman before him swelled. “Thank you,” he said, his voice cracking with emotion as he leaned down to kiss her forehead. “Now, let’s get you into that bath I promised.”

---

Martha lay against John in the bath, relaxing as the soft aroma of her favorite jasmine-scented bubble bath (that he’d had been sure to pack, of course) filled the room.

“How are you doing?” she whispered, leaning her head back to rest on his shoulder.

“Rather nicely, and you? Did you enjoy my massage?”

“I did enjoy it very much, thank you,” she replied with a long pause. “But how are you really?”

“How’d you mean?” he asked, feigning ignorance of the direction her line of questioning was certainly taking them.

“You, in Scotland after nearly ten years. You are more tense than usual and I can feel you trembling just slightly even though you are obviously trying to hide it. This has got to be really hard for you and, while I’m sure you have your reasons for bringing me here, I just want to make sure that you’re okay.”

John shifted to wrap his arms around her waist and gave a jagged sigh. “It’s a lot to digest honestly, but I really don’t want this holiday to be all about me. I want to take care of you, first and foremost.”

“Can I ask why you brought me here, then? I mean, the gesture is…a bit overwhelming in scope, but I worry that even though you seem dead set on focusing on me for this visit – which you really don’t need to do as much as it flatters me, by the way – you have set yourself up for a very emotional weekend.”

John sighed again. “I don’t know really, it just…felt like the right time, I suppose. I keep dreaming of it and I just thought…well, I don’t know what I thought really.”

“You’ve been dreaming of Glasgow?”

“Yes, quite a lot actually. Mostly of my old home, but also where I used to play as a child with my brother. I don’t know what it means, but there you have it.”

“Well,” Martha moved her hands to lace her fingers with his, “you always tell me to not push down things within ourselves as they will only surface that much stronger later on. Maybe you’ve been running too long from your old home and your past? Maybe it’s time to face it again?”

---

“Are you alright, John? You’re tossing and turning a lot,” Martha whispered.

It was the middle of the night and while they were in a very comfortable bed in a very tranquil neighborhood in Edinburgh, John was having a difficult time soothing his mind and his body enough to sleep deeply.

“Still tense, I suppose,” he replied. “Don’t worry about me, get some rest.”

Martha shifted to spoon him from behind, snaking her hand around his waist to lazily caress the downy hair on his belly with her fingertips. She leaned down to kiss his shoulder. “I have a few ideas of how to deal with your tension,” she murmured against his skin.

He felt himself hardening immediately. Martha always had such an effect on him and he was often trying to do his best to tame his urges with her, feeling that if he were to completely let go, he would never want to stop making love to her.

“You do, do you?” he growled, attempting to sound innocent.

“Yes, I should think so,” she replied, slowly sliding her fingertips down the expanse of his belly until she drew one fingernail down the trail of hair there, and settled with her hand taking hold of his cock.

He gasped at her touch, almost unable to control himself as he instinctively bucked his hips against her grasp, slipping himself against the softness of her warm palm. He’d wanted her all night (they’d honestly had little time for sex over the last two weeks, aside from too-quick trysts here and there, with Martha’s grueling work schedule), especially as they had laid together in the bath earlier, but he’d put aside his desires because he knew she was exhausted.

“I thought you needed rest,” he whimpered, moaning as she tightened her grip on him and slowly swirled her thumb against the moisture gathering at the tip.

“Well, I did sleep several hours on the way here and I have been asleep on and off since we finished our bath, so you needn’t worry about that.”

“We’ll have to be quieter than usual,” John said with a chuckle. “We don’t want to wake up the whole house.”

“I think we can manage,” Martha cooed, stroking him a bit faster now.

John only groaned in response, gripping tightly onto his pillow and his thigh to steady himself.

“I’ve never made love in Scotland before,” Martha whispered, nipping at the bend where his shoulder met his neck. “I look forward to having that first time with you.”

“I should think…it’s just…like sex…in England,” he panted, teasing her.

“I don’t know, is it?” she cooed.

On a drunken evening of anecdotes early in their relationship, John had spoken rather candidly about his sexual past to Martha, and how much of his experimental streak came from back when he was still in Scotland with his first lover, an older woman called Claudia Zano.

Claudia had been a recent transplant from Rome who was also a Classics professor, doing postgraduate research at the University of Glasgow. The two had met by chance late one night in the University’s library, as John had been drawn there to do his own medical research due to its reputation of being one of the best academic libraries in Europe.

John had joked with Martha about how, on that evening, he’d been absolutely bewildered looking through some of the texts on Latin in an attempt to help him understand a lot of the medical terminology he was coming across in his studies. Claudia had noticed him in the aisle of books on Latin when he’d groaned somewhat loudly in frustration, thinking he was alone, and had walked over to see what was wrong.

They’d sat right there on the floor chatting much of that night, with Claudia teaching him little bits of Latin, until they had to leave when the library closed around 2:00 AM. A few cups of coffee later at a local café and a visit to her nearby tenement afterward, saw John ending up under her in her bed, losing his virginity, and the sexual relationship between the two of them began.

John said they’d never spoke of love and that Claudia had preferred to stay emotionally detached from him. He’d wondered sometimes if he was just as much of an experiment to her as she was to him, but still benefited greatly from her changing an awkward cocky lad into a more generous, open-minded lover in the short few months they’d known one another before she returned to Italy.

“I do tend to prefer the sex I’ve had in England,” John whispered to Martha, his thoughts now back to the situation at hand, “but then that is because I’m usually in England with you.”

Martha shifted, letting him go, so that she could pull him backward to lay flat. “You always have the right things to say to a girl on that tongue of yours,” she teased, crawling to sit atop his thighs.

“I know other things I’d prefer on my tongue.”

“Really now? Why don’t you tell me what that preference is?”

“How about I show you instead?” he replied with a mischievous grin, flipping her suddenly to be on her back beneath him.

John slowly slipped down between Martha’s legs, lightly caressing her thighs, and teasing her with soft touches and butterfly kisses there before moving his mouth to the apex between. He lazily lapped his tongue against her, a bit heady from both her natural scent and the remnants of jasmine from their recent bath, losing himself to the enjoyment of her taste and the quiet moans he was evoking from her.

She didn’t take long to climax, probably from a few days of sexual tension building up between them, and after he finished licking her once her spasms subsided, he quickly moved up the length of her supine body, to sheath his cock inside her.

Martha’s body arched up to meet him in response and the two of them languidly made love, pulling his own quieter climax from him, before his body fell bonelessly against hers.

After catching his breath, he shifted his weight to his elbows on either side of her head, and looked down at her. His heart raced as he saw his own feelings of love and affection reflected right back at him in her own loving gaze.

“I’m so happy to have you here with me,” he whispered.

“In Scotland?” she asked, with a smile.

“In Scotland or anywhere, but especially Scotland, honestly.”

“Of course,” she said, reaching up to stroke his cheek, “and I must say, sex in Scotland with you is just as lovely as ever.”

“Good to know that I’ve not regressed back into the fumbling teenager I used to be when I was here last,” he replied with a self-conscious chuckle.

“No, perhaps I should send Claudia thank you note for that?”

John shook his head at her in laughter and then leaned down to kiss Martha’s neck. “Of course, I must say that I can’t wait to make you scream again when we get home. Being quiet was a wee bit challenging for me, I must confess,” he murmured against her skin.

“Promises, promises,” she replied in a teasing, singsong tone.

---

Days of relaxation filled with tiny bits of local sightseeing and introductions to local culture – such as the first proper Scottish breakfast for Martha (she’d not been too keen on the black pudding, but loved the tattie scones, he’d noted) – seemed to rush by much too fast for John’s liking. He really wasn’t looking forward to returning back to the chaos of their lives in London so soon, and he especially wasn’t looking forward to more days apart from Martha as a result.

He had to admit that he’d felt a bit guilty about never managing to get over to Glasgow, but Martha assured him that he’d still been brave enough in just visiting Scotland itself, and that more would come in due time when he was more ready. In all honesty, a lot of his decision to remain in Edinburgh during their stay had hinged on the fact that just being in the country had surprisingly been enough to stir up many of old ghosts from his past.

Perhaps he’d not been as ready as he’d hoped before going up there. Perhaps it had not been the “right time” as he’d calculated.

As he lay in bed the first night after he and Martha had made love, he’d found himself deep in thought on the matter. It was in these late hours of contemplation, that he’d found he wasn’t sure if, in light of this startling emotional reaction, it was fair to stir up that many more of the demons from his past by setting foot on the streets on Glasgow again – at least in the midst of what he’d hoped would be a romantic weekend instead.

Sure, he knew Martha would have been by his side as support – as his touchstone – no matter what his decision turned out to be, but in the end, he decided the timing wasn’t right just yet. He did vow to both himself and her, though, to try and visit there in the future sometime, but that would perhaps be when he could focus more on himself and bravely face those demons head on.

“Can you believe it’s our final night here?” Martha said a bit sadly, as they sat across from one another at a local restaurant for dinner.

“I know, where did the time go?”

“I really enjoyed it, though, John. I’m so happy that you brought me up here.”

“I love you,” he breathed, reaching to cover her hand with his.

“And I love you,” she said with a smile that quickly switched from sweet to impish.

He was about to question the swift change in her features but was stopped when he felt her stockinged toes press against his inner thigh underneath the table.

He smiled back at her, nodding slightly at her in acknowledgment of her action. “So, are you enjoying your lobster?” he asked, referring to her platter of Scottish seafood, despite the lingering caresses under the table from her.

On recommendation from their hostess at the B&B, Lydie, they were both sharing a nice meal at an upscale nearby restaurant, The Witchery. John had wanted their last meal in Scotland to be both delicious and memorable, but with Martha’s current libidinous advances adding an exciting surprise element to that wish, he was suddenly thinking she might be taking that to a whole new level.

“I am. It’s all really very delicious,” Martha replied with a naughty smirk, slowly sliding her toes up the length of his thigh to settle between his legs.

John grunted quietly in response and then coughed to try to cover his reaction. He thanked whatever higher power above that might be listening, that their table was donned with a long tablecloth to hide the things going on beneath and that there weren’t many other people dining around them.

He took in a deep breath and watched Martha sipping her wine across from him, a wicked glint in her eye. His mind desperately grasped for something to keep their conversation going – to keep up their charade to forestall any potential curious onlookers – but it seemed each time he started to think of something, Martha would switch the pressure and angle of the caresses from her toes against his quickly growing hardness, and his ideas would slip away just as fast as they were conjured.

He tried looking around him to distract him a bit; mildly terrified he might just have one off in his trousers at the rate things were going. He looked at the beautiful red leather chairs they sat in and at the décor around him, with its dark wood walls lined in ancient tapestries and decorated in gilt, and tried to focus on that instead.

“Why am I thinking you might want to leave before dessert?” Martha asked playfully, giving a throaty laugh. “It’s too bad as I was really looking forward to the rice pudding with roast mango and mango puree.”

John whimpered a bit. “I was definitely considering leaving with you as soon as possible, but – “

“Then you remembered that good things come to those who wait,” Martha finished his statement with a wink.

“Of course,” he said with a chuckle. Martha was using the saying that he’d often used to tease her against him and it only served to turn him on further.

The waiter came by a moment later and cleared their dishes, topped off their wine glasses, and took their order for dessert. Martha was talking innocently about some of her favorite places they’d visited on their holiday, while continuing to roll her toes and then her heel against him when their pudding finally – thankfully – arrived.

She continued to tease him as she ate, sensuously licking bits of puree from her lips and fingers, and it was all he could do to keep himself breathing and not just tug her by the hand out of there – or at least to the toilet for a tryst – before the bill came. Once they paid, they made their way quickly out of the restaurant, with John holding his jacket in front of himself in an attempt to hide his arousal.

With a few quick words to Lydie once back inside the B&B – where they were happy to find out many of the people staying there were out for the night – they made their way back up to their room. The cab ride back home had been a true exercise in patience for John with him doing his best to keep himself in check and not give into the growing temptation of simply slipping a hand between Martha’s legs in the darkness of the back seat.

He’d settled for soft caresses of her knee instead, murmuring to her, “You’re going to be in trouble when we get back to the room.”

Once inside their room, on the other hand, he pressed her hard against the door, enjoying the excited gasp she gave. He reached down, sliding his fingertips down her sides, before inching up her dress to her waist. He leaned forward and pulled an earlobe between his teeth, “You’ve been a very naughty girl tonight, Dr. Jones,” he whispered in her ear.

“Have I, Dr. MacLachlan?” she asked, feigning innocence.

John slipped his hands around her waist and pulled at her knickers to yank them down, too aroused to take things slowly. He then bent down slightly before lifting Martha to wrap her legs around him as he pressed her against the door again.

“Yes,” he replied simply, kissing her fiercely, all tongue and teeth and passion.

He then leaned back a bit from her again to pull harshly at the snap and zip of his trousers, practically ripping them from his body as he shoved them down his long legs. He pushed against her tightly again – this time the only thing between both of their aching points of arousal was the thin cloth of his underwear.

“What are you going to do about it?” Martha asked him with a tease.

“Well,” he said, rutting against her in soft circles that caused them both to moan, “I was thinking of making you wait, but seeing as how I need to be inside you immediately, I’ll have to think of another form of punishment.”

He shifted and reached down to shove off his underwear, kicking it aside before holding tightly onto Martha’s legs and sliding himself – almost roughly – inside her.

The two of them groaned with his penetration and Martha wrapped her legs more tightly around his hips. John began to move against her, his frenetic primal movements pushing her hard against the wood of the door with each thrust. He was beginning to quickly lose himself in her, gasping a bit as his mind focused on the point at which they were joined, as he tried to get deeper and deeper inside her – wanting to be as deeply inside her as possible, to somehow further complete that electrifying circuit of their physical and emotional connection.

“We should…move to…the bed…” Martha panted, one of her hands gripping tightly onto his shoulders while the other tightly grasped his hair.

“Bed?” John stammered, trying to wrap his mind around her words as he fought against the concupiscent animal within him that seemed to control his body and fought for his full attention instead.

“Lydie,” Martha breathed, simply.

John snapped back into his senses for a moment, remembering where he was as a tinge of embarrassment passed through him at the possibility of disturbing the household with their banging against the door.

“Hang on to me,” he practically grunted, as he moved his hands under her bottom to hold her and he turned to quickly walk her over to the bed.

Once at the edge of the mattress, he leaned over to lie her down. She whined slightly as he slipped out of her momentarily as he shifted positions to crawl over her on the bed, but then moaned again when he quickly slipped back inside her, this time rolling his hips against her even more quickly and wildly, gripping tightly onto the headboard for leverage.

“I don’t know that I can hold out much longer,” he growled, slamming into her. “Maybe my punishment will be not waiting for you to come. Maybe I’ll just use your body for my own pleasure tonight.”

Martha only responded with a smile, wrapping her legs tighter around him and arching herself upward to meet each thrust. She then ran her fingernails down the length of his back, lusciously scraping the skin there, and it was finally too much – in just one two three thrusts, he climaxed hard, biting his lip so as to not call out too loudly.

He fell against her, barely holding himself up by the elbows, with trembling arms by either side of her head. He took a long moment to catch his breath, his mind spinning just as his heart raced.

Almost without thinking, he uttered, “Live with me.”

Martha looked up at him, her expression a bit surprised and confused as she caught her own breath as well. “Sorry?”

“Come live with me,” he reiterated, feeling strangely empowered as he reached over to stroke the side of her face and began to let the words pour from him – words that had wanted to reach the surface for some time now – as the dam finally broke within him. “I don’t want to just be living out of suitcases at each other’s flats anymore. Instead I want rushed mornings where I try to make breakfast for us, but burn the bacon or ruin the eggs and we have a good laugh before going out for food instead. Or even lazy mornings where I surprise you with breakfast in bed or a nice bubble bath.”

“I want to see you at night curled up on the couch reading a book and wearing some cute flannel pajamas that I know you own, but never wear in front of me, because you worry I won’t find you sexy enough in them. I want to come home to you from long stressful nights in the hospital and just curl up in your arms and for you to be able to do the same. And I want to look around at everything in my home and just see your presence everywhere, as your possessions intermingle with mine – your clothes next to mine in the wardrobe, your furniture with mine, your toothpaste by my sink…just all the simple things we can share…in a life together.”

“John – “ she whispered.

“Maybe it’s too fast, I don’t know. I just know these last six months or so have made me the happiest I’ve ever been and I…well, I just want to share all my days and nights with you. If you don’t want to move in to my flat or me into yours, we can move anywhere, absolutely anywhere you want. I’ll move anywhere as long as I have you by my side.”

John swallowed hard, the rush of blood in his ears deafening him and the race of his heart making him feel suddenly weak. There were still moments when Martha could make him feel so vulnerable, so afraid, and so utterly aware that just one word from her had the power to cause him agonizing grief or the most exhilarating happiness.

He bit his lip, worried that he’d perhaps pushed things too far. He had only ever lived with one other lover – Fay – and she’d practically dragged him into living with her a mere month after they found out she was pregnant. At the time he’d mostly did it because he thought it was the proper thing to do, a proper thing for a father to do.

The absolute last thing in the world that he wanted was to give his child a fatherless life as he’d had after William died.

Still, it wasn’t about his own needs, never about what he wanted. But now, oh now, he knew with utter clarity he wanted to share his day-to-day life with Martha, to share a home with her, but he had no idea what was the supposed appropriate length of time in a relationship to move in with one another – he’d honestly never really considered it before, usually preferring to be alone and independent instead (or so he always tried to convince himself, as he always kept so many people at arm’s length).

He’d been carefully denying himself with Martha, always devising elaborate schemes to hold himself back from such desires for so many months, always employing the most clever excuses in his head – oh, he’d come up with a thousand by now. All that time though, he’d been silently aching each time she would go back to her own flat for the evening, or worse, a few days. All that time he would do his best to ignore the creeping sadness when his bed always felt too big and too empty without her and his flat just seemed unbearably quiet.

So, he would keep quiet, do his best to never let on about how he felt (something barely admitted even to himself, if he were honest), but instead to show her how strong and independent he was without her. And he was, really, but he still missed her company terribly and the way that – no matter how out of control things got in his life – just one word, one touch from her would ground him, tether him back to reality.

And now, with everything from the weekend – from the echoes of his past to the glimpses of a future with Martha – he wasn’t sure he had it in him to deny himself any longer.

John rolled off her, lying flat on his back as he stared up at the ceiling. “Sorry,” he murmured, “I must have just been carried away in the moment, won’t happen again.”

Martha turned onto her side, flanking him, as she nuzzled up to his neck and her hand began to idly stroke his chest hair. “I know that tone and you know I don’t like it,” she said softly, kissing him just below his ear.

“Just tired,” he said flatly, trying his best to not let his voice tremble. “I just need to sleep.”

“John,” she paused, kissing him again, this time on his neck. “You act as if I’ve rejected you.”

He swallowed hard again, balling up his fist to try and steady himself. “I assumed that’s what your silence meant. It’s all right – you certainly don’t have to consider living with me. It was just an idea, a fantasy, really. Just forget I ever said anything.”

“John,” Martha shifted up on her elbow to look down at him, searching. He tried to look away, so worried that she’d really see how frightened he was feeling. Still, he knew he could never truly hide from her when she was studying him this way. She caressed his chin, pulling his head so that she could still look deep into his eyes. “Silence is not a rejection. I was just…surprised. I never would have thought that you’d consider living with me.”

“Are you kidding?” he asked with a self-deprecating laugh, “Some days it is all I think about.”

“I know what you mean,” she said, smiling herself.

“I’ll understand if it’s too fast, if you don’t want to, I just – “

“John,” she said firmly, lifting a finger to press against his lips to quiet him, “I would love to live with you.”

“You would?” he asked, feeling the excitement of her words rush through him.

“Yes,” she replied, leaning over to replace her finger with her lips for a quick kiss, “very much.”

He wrapped his arms around her, happiness welling within him so strongly that he felt as if he might burst into a thousand pieces right there.

“I love you, Martha. I love you so much,” he exclaimed.

“I love you too, John.”

After a moment of holding her tightly against him, he gave a small chuckle. “Well, isn’t this an interesting conundrum?”

“Hmm?” Martha asked.

“Here I was punishing you tonight, but then you went and made me the happiest man alive.”

John let go of her and then deftly flipped her on her back. Martha gave a surprised yelp and then giggled as she looked up at him. “Happiest man alive, eh?”

“That would be me,” he said, beginning to trail kisses down her neck toward her breasts.

“I thought you weren’t going to try and make me come tonight,” Martha said, obviously teasing him.

“Consider this a…reward, yes. Cancels things out quite nicely, I should think,” he said softly before wrapping his lips around one of her nipples and flicking his tongue against the hardened nub.

“Oh yes,” Martha moaned. “Very nicely.”

---

The drive back to London the next day was a bit of a challenge as neither of them had got much sleep throughout the evening before – as John spent much of that time expressing his gratitude in a way Martha found, in her words, rather “fulfilling, yet wonderfully exhausting.”

Still, despite the fatigue in his limbs and his weariness about returning back to Real Life, it was true – in that moment, he did feel like the Happiest Man Alive.

------------------------------------------------

ENDNOTES:
This is where the story took place, for those interested:
+ Albyn Townhouse (the B&B)
+ The Witchery (the restaurant)

Bizarre Love Triangle, Part 3/3

2008-07-24T19:59:27Z

Title: Bizarre Love Triangle [Part Three]
Author: radiantbaby
Characters/Pairings: Ten/Martha, Dr. John/Martha, Ten/Martha/Dr. John [Note: Dr. John was a David Tennant character in the “Reproduction” episode of “Love in the 21st Century”]
Word Count: 22,860 total, 6532 in Part Three [in Word]
Genre: Angst, AU, Romance/Fluff, Polyamory, Porn, and a teeny bit of Slash
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Post-S3 Doctor Who, Post-S2 Torchwood
Summary: The Doctor takes Martha and John on a trip to an alien festival to work on making amends, but they end up getting more than they bargained for. Everyone is a bit more vulnerable than they’d like, but is it what they need to finally work things out between them? Crossover of Doctor Who and “Love in the 21st Century”
Beta: persiflage_1
Disclaimer: ~~All your Doctor Who are belong to us~~ Sadly, I own nothing related to
Doctor Who et al, nor do I own anything related to “Love in the 21st Century” – I am just playing around in their sandbox for a bit of fun.

This story is in three parts and will be posted over the next few days.

Previous stories in this series: Three Words, Doctors, Staring off a Cliff, Martha Jones, Storyteller, Trusting You, and Not With a Bang, But With a Whimper.

Author's Note: Thank you so much for the feedback so far! I'm getting ready to leave town until Monday and don't know what my internet situation will be, so I will try to get to any comments I have either over the weekend or once I get home.

===

[Fic Banner by angelfireeast]

+ + +

part one | part two | part three

===

After they awoke, John and Martha began their day with a long hot bath together in the large palatial tub in their room’s en suite. They both knew that it was going to be a day celebrating sensuality and pleasure, so as they soaked they discussed their hopes and wishes for the day and both expressed how much they wanted to just lose themselves in both the spirit of it all and, by extension, in each other.

Once they lovingly dried each other off – taking time to leisurely and sensuously caress each other’s skin with the ultra-soft fabric of the hotel’s towels – Martha slowly wrapped the fabric of the chiton around John’s body, feeling very much like a sybarite as she worshiped the curves and angles of his form with fingertips and lingering gazes.

She stood on her toes to fasten his chiton at his shoulders with pins, which were admittedly not as extravagant as the ones the Doctor had gifted to her, but still made him look majestic and even a bit divine. Then as she knelt before him, tying the sash around his waist, she pressed her cheek against his thigh, consumed with an irresistible feeling that made her want to revere him like the gods he resembled and, in blind adulation and exaltation, just take his cock in her mouth and pleasure him for hours.

For her, it almost bordered on sacrilegious, but in that moment, Martha didn’t care. His body begged to be worshiped and she wanted to be that devotee.

“The Lysios, do you think they pump it into the air of the hotels as well?” Martha breathed, rubbing her cheek against John’s thigh, enjoying the resultant rise of his cock pressing itself against the fabric just inches from her.

Before they had fallen asleep the night before, as they lay tangled in one another’s arms in the softness of their bed, Martha had talked to John about the Lysios and all the other things Ahren had said about the festival. John had joked that he didn’t have any need for intoxication to lose his inhibitions with her, but he still seemed very willing to go along with the experience and share that breakdown of boundaries with her.

John reached down to caress her hair, moaning as her nose now nuzzled the base of his cock. “Already feeling amorous?” he asked, though his smirk showed that he knew full well she was.

“Maybe a bit,” she said, her voice silky. He trembled in response.

“At this rate, we’ll never leave this room today,” he groaned, very lightly grinding his hips against her.

Then, as if on cue, there was a knock at the door – the door to the Doctor’s room.

John whimpered and sighed in displeasure. “To be continued, I should think.”

Martha jumped up to her feet, covering herself with her hands, as she was still nude, while John made his way across the room toward the door. He looked back, winking and smiling at her. “There’s no need to hide yourself. Once you have your chiton on, nothing will be left to the imagination.”

She blushed and looked down, still keeping an arm across her breasts and her hand over the apex of her thighs. While she was very aroused, thinking of the Doctor seeing her nude suddenly made her self-conscious as well.

What if he decides he no longer loves me after seeing my body? she found herself thinking. John is very forgiving about little things about my body I’m fond of, but will the Doctor be as well?

“Yes?” John said through the door.

“May I come in?” replied the Doctor, the sound of his voice muffled through the wood of the door.

John looked questioningly at Martha and, despite her worries, she nodded affirmatively.

“Of course,” John replied.

They heard an electronic beep and the lock disengage. The door opened slowly and, before the Doctor was even through it, he was already talking. “I was thinking that we could join everyone for the community breakfast. It’s not mandatory, of course, but I think it would be…good…fun…”

His words slowed as his gaze fell on Martha standing naked in the middle of the room. His mouth kept moving just slightly – though sound ceased to come from it – and his eyes were wide in shock.

“We were still getting dressed,” she said shyly.

Martha then found herself averting her own eyes a bit at the sight of the Doctor’s own body, so exposed beneath the thin fabric of his chiton. She’d only rarely seen him in as little (for him) as shirtsleeves and trousers, but had never had any opportunity to see his nearly nude form in such detail.

John walked over to the table, picking up Martha’s chiton from the box. “Would you like to put it on her again? We took the pins off last night so the fabric wouldn’t get too ripped,” he asked the Doctor as he held the items out for him.

The Doctor’s surprised gaze turned to him and he seemed almost frozen to the spot. John slowly approached him, soon standing face to face with him. He held up the chiton and pins, smiling at him.

“I think we’d both like it if you did,” John added softly, but loud enough for Martha to hear.

Martha felt a resultant throb of arousal between her legs and bit her lip, a hint of amusement fluttering through her over John’s attempt at instigating things between the three of them. He’s such a naughty boy, she thought.

The Doctor looked back at her, then back to John, and then down at the clothing in his hands. He still looked completely stunned and for a moment she was worried John had pushed him too far too fast. She was relieved though, when after a moment of what looked like internal deliberation, he took the items from John and slowly walked around him, tentatively making his way toward her.

Martha could feel herself beginning to quiver as he approached, noting that his gaze seemed filled with a delicious mixture of desire and bashfulness.

He stopped before her, a blush now evident on his cheeks. “Spread your arms out for me,” he said in a low voice and then asked, holding up the chiton pins, “Will you hold these?”

Martha took the pins from him and took in a deep breath before spreading her arms. She was fully exposed now – no more demure attempts to cover her body with her arms and hands to hide behind. She smiled as he gasped a little in response, his eyes now roaming over her as if he was taking her whole body in – studying and memorizing it much like he seemed to do with all things that interested him.

She felt herself get even more wet under his intense scrutiny and, while she worried for a moment he might be displeased with what he saw, a quick furtive glance between his legs showed otherwise, as she noticed his hardness beginning to press and push up against the fabric of his chiton.

He looked back up into her eyes, swallowing hard, seemingly embarrassed about letting himself look at her at openly. He unrolled the fabric in his hands, his eyes still on hers as he stepped forward and began to slowly wrap it around her. His fingertips slipped down her sides and belly, smoothing out any creases, and she gave a small smile when she noticed he was trembling the tiniest bit.

“May I have the pins?” he asked, his voice a bit hoarse. Martha handed them to him. “Now will you hold the chiton up for me?”

Martha pinched the fabric at her shoulders between her fingers, enjoying the way he leaned over her to attach the pins and how the two of them gasped as his hard cock brushed against her thigh from his proximity.

She spared a glance at John and smiled at him as she saw him sitting at the table, watching them intently with a look of devotion coupled with desire and a hand tucked between his legs that was ever so lightly stroking himself.

Ever the voyeur, John always said he loved watching other men dote on her and, even more so, pleasure her, leading to many times with him just sitting on a chair by the bed as he would watch people such as Jack make love to her.

She found herself wondering how much he’d like it if he could watch her with the Doctor and her heart raced at the thought. She tried desperately to think of something else – anything else, please – than sleeping with the Doctor.

No, it felt much too soon to even contemplate, to even act on such desires – she still felt far too vulnerable with him to open herself up so much (to let himself inside her, in the emotional sense as well as the physical), no matter how tempting the idea was.

“There you are,” the Doctor said softly, stepping back from her to look at his handiwork now that her chiton was on.

“Thank you,” she breathed.

Despite wanting – needing -- to keep him mostly at arm’s length, her conflicting feelings of wanting so much for him to step closer again instead fought for dominance. Oh, how she wanted to feel his heated breath against her neck again, as it had been when he worked the pins. It was an action so simple, yet so very intimate.

The pins pushing through the fabric had reminded her of the pangs of desire penetrating her senses and she wondered – oh, she wondered – as he’d pushed them through, if that is how he looks (tongue pressed against teeth, mouth ajar) when he pushes himself inside a woman while making love.

John stood up and joined the two of them. “Even more breathtaking than yesterday,” he commented on her ensemble, looking up and down with a lustful smile.

“We should have breakfast,” the Doctor said weakly, still mostly averting his gaze from looking at Martha below her shoulders.

“Yes, we should,” John agreed, but then stepped around Martha to kiss her neck from behind, murmuring in her ear, “Of course there are other things I’d rather eat right now, but I’ll behave.”

The Doctor blushed and looked away, pushing a knuckle against his nose, as he shuffled his feet (which had his Converse on them and admittedly looked a bit comical in contrast to his chiton) nervously. Martha’s breath hitched in sudden embarrassment as she remembered those times he’d said his hearing was more enhanced than human hearing – she knew immediately he’d heard John’s words.

“Should I wear my trainers like you?” John asked the Doctor, oblivious.

“Well,” he started, clearing his throat, “they have sandals for you to wear if you’d like, but I thought I’d just wear my regular shoes. The sandals aren’t mandatory.”

“Great, I think I will go with trainers as well,” John said enthusiastically walking over to grab them and put them on.

Martha frowned down at her heels nearby, her feet still a bit sore from walking in them all the previous day. “I think I’ll go for the sandals myself. Where do I get them?”

“In the lobby. The hotel will provide them for you.”

Once John had his shoes on, he climbed into his hover chair. “Ready when you are.”

They made their way out into the hall, the Doctor and John slipping their keycards into their trainers for storage, as they all went over to the elevator to get downstairs. Martha felt a bit shy at first with how exposed she was and a bit nervous standing around with all the other people who were just as lightly dressed, but she did her best to ignore her insecurities and enjoy the company of the two men at her side.

Once downstairs, Martha retrieved some sandals from the service center in the lobby and decided to take the opportunity to confirm her suspicions of Lysios being pumped into the air of the hotel that morning. “Yes ma’am,” the woman behind the counter said with a bright smile, “We do it in honor of the festival. It’s a rare treat, only the best hotels do it.”

Martha smiled back at her, looking across the room at John and the Doctor chatting as she slipped her sandals on and thanked the woman. No wonder I was feeling such a strong urge to make love to either or both of them, she thought with a smirk.

---

After another sensual meal at the community breakfast held outside in the agora, the three of them began to make their way into the Anthionite assembly hall. The tables had been moved in favor of many soft chairs, couches, and even a few beds. There were swatches of fabric hanging from everywhere and it almost looked like a maze of cloth, disguising little nooks for people to speak, presumably for more privacy.

The Doctor took in a deep breath. “Lysios. It’s stronger in here.”

“Did you know they were using it at the hotel as well?” Martha asked, trying to avert her eyes from a couple starting to make love nearby.

“I didn’t know they were going to, but I definitely noticed it upon waking,” the Doctor tapped his nose, “Time Lord senses, remember?”

They made their way through the building, circling around and around again as they spoke with random attendees and did their (Martha, at least) best not to stare too much at the more amorous couples. There were a few fits of laughter that would overtake the three of them – usually over something rather trivial, but difficult to stop once they began – and they obviously couldn’t help but feel the intoxication taking over their senses.

Martha noted it was all very pleasant though, as Ahren had described, and she was happy that she was feeling more and more open without stumbling about like a drunkard.

“Why don’t I leave you two alone?” John offered, after what felt like a few hours of taking things in.

Martha panicked a bit at his suggestion. “But – “ she started.

John leaned over and kissed her. “I’ll just be over there if you need me,” he pointed to a larger area that had what looked like mattresses pushed together and had about eight or so people in varying stages of making love with each other.

He climbed out of his hover chair, pushing it into a nearby corner and locking it down. He then pushed a hand into Martha’s hair, stroking her temple with his thumb. “It’s okay, really. I love you so much. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do. Right now, I’m just interested in watching. You know how I love to watch,” he whispered with a naughty wink.

Martha glanced at the Doctor, noticing he’d turned away from them and seemed to be looking in the other direction to give them privacy. She stood on her toes to whisper in his ear. “But I’m scared.”

“Of the Doctor or of me meeting that perfect woman that I’ll want to leave you for?” he whispered back.

“Both,” she said weakly with a small frown, slipping from him until she was standing flat again.

“You have absolutely nothing to worry about in either case, especially the second one,” he assured her with a wide smile and then leaned down to capture her lips in a passionate kiss. “I love you, Martha,” he breathed as he pulled from their kiss.

“And I love you,” she smiled up at him, still feeling a bit nervous, but decided to be strong in spite of it. “Go, have fun. We’ll catch up with you.”

“I look forward to it and then telling you all about it later,” he winked again and then made his way into the large room.

Martha tapped the Doctor on the shoulder. He turned around and offered her his arm. “Just the two of us now?” he asked.

“Yep, just us.”

---

Martha smiled as she curled up on one of the couches with the Doctor – head on his shoulder and hand resting on his chest as he held her to him with his own arm tucked around her. They’d found a nice little alcove with just a couch and no one else around and began to chat. The conversation had started out casual, of course -- more stories about UNIT from her and more stories about travel from him – but as things got more and more personal, they’d slowly moved closer together until they were finally cuddling.

“I never meant to hurt you at Farringham, you know. I was very much, in many ways, not myself at that time,” the Doctor said after a few minutes of them simply sitting together in silence. “To even think that any of my clothing from that time could bring up such pain for you, well, it honestly tears me apart. I am so very sorry.”

Martha blew out a sigh. She’d wanted for so long to speak intimately to the Doctor about their travels, but now that it seemed like a real possibility, she was feeling a tiny bit reticent. Still, any anxieties seemed to only be small inside her, the Lysios empowering her to speak, galvanizing her to finally say all that she’d always wanted to tell him.

“I was so scared,” she started, pausing as she tried to work out what she wanted to say. Aside from the little bits that had come up with John within the past few days, she hadn’t honestly let herself think much about her feelings about the whole thing for a very long time.

The Doctor reached up to lightly stroke her hair. “What scared you, Martha?” he asked her softly, “I want to know. I want to help and to try to understand. I really don’t want this to have damaged our friendship forever. I want it to heal.”

“Well, at first it was that I was so alone. It was hard enough to be completely out of place, out of time, but people treated me so badly. Thankfully, I eventually made friends with Jenny, well, before she…before…” Martha let out a sob, remembering the horrible fate of her dear lost friend.

The Doctor leaned over and kissed her hair offering a whispered apology for her loss. “Anyway, usually when we traveled, you were always around,” she continued. “Sure, you weren’t always perfect company, but as John Smith, you made me feel even more invisible than I already did.”

“You never were invisible to me, Martha. Never,” he whispered.

Martha didn’t feel ready to accept his words, still feeling a bit distrustful of letting herself believe in him, so she continued on. “And then you began to fall in love with Joan – ”

“John Smith, not me.”

“For all intents and purposes, it was you. At least to me, at least at the time,” Martha corrected, trying to not let herself get angry and she focused on the floor, “And then the watch went missing and the Family showed up and nothing I did made you remember who you really were. All I could think was that I would be trapped in 1913 for the rest of my life. There you were, fighting so hard to stay John Smith, yelling such cruel things at me, and I really had started to lose hope that night in the cottage.”

He reached down to pulled her tight against him in a hug. “I’m so sorry. I never meant any of that to happen to you. Not at all,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “My memories of that time are so disjointed and hazy at best, but I know for certain, even as that simple man, that I cared so much about you, as much as I do right now. Like John Smith, though, I’m absolute rubbish at showing it.”

“Why do you do that anyway?”

The Doctor’s breath hitched. “Because I get scared too, Martha.”

“What scares an ancient Lord of Time?”

“Love.”

“Why would love scare you?”

“Because I am – as you said – an ancient Lord of Time, Martha, and the people I meet along the way, well, so many of them only have such very short lives and it seems just as I begin to open myself up to them, they are gone from me, forever. I always thought that it would get better over time, that I would simply become numb to all the loss, but it’s just the opposite, it gets even harder. And then there are people like you – beautiful, brilliant, marvelous, clever you – that come around and I know, I absolutely know that I could love you so deeply, so fiercely, but then my fears rear their head and I push you away,” he stopped, clearing this throat and wiping tears from his cheek, “It feels better that way in the end. No attachments, no heartbreaks.”

“But it doesn’t work like that, it’s not so easy, is it?” Martha asked. She found herself amazed at the glimpse into his psyche and how someone so antediluvian, so powerful, could be so humbled by, so abased by, and so terrified of love.

He sighed. “No, it never is. The thing you push away always seems to be the thing that rules you in the end. And the people you push away most…well, they are usually the ones you are denying yourself the most happiness with.”

“Is that…why you pushed me away, Doctor?”

“Martha,” he said softly, shifting so that he could lift her chin to look up at him. She swallowed as she looked at his cheeks wet with tears and the tender expression in his eyes, “I pushed you away because, no matter how hard I tried not to, I was falling desperately in love with you.”

“I never knew. I was so confused all the time. Sometimes I wondered if you really liked me and you had these moments when you seemed to and we seemed so close – like in New New York when we talked in the alley or after we were on the Pentallian – but then you would say something or do something harsh and those walls of yours would just come up and shut me out again. I guess that is why it’s so hard to believe that you love me, you treated me pretty horribly sometimes and made me feel so insignificant.”

“I was confused too, really. I wanted you close, wanted things between us to deepen, but then I would catch myself and react out of fear, blocking you from me, keeping you at arms length. ‘Just one trip’ I would tell you, trying to convince myself to just get you out of my life, so I’d no longer have to struggle with my feelings. I couldn’t go through with it, though – I wanted you in my life and by my side. And then after being away from you for a year on the Valiant, sitting day after day consumed with fear over whether you were alive or dead, I hoped I could be better for you when you returned, but then you were leaving and I just – “

“Why didn’t you say anything to get me to stay? I might not have, but you could have at least tried. You could have at least…made me feel welcome and wanted.”

“My hearts were shattering and I felt, despite any love I had for you, that perhaps you were better off without me after all, that I had done too much damage to you to deserve the gift of you in my life any longer. I could have begged you to stay…but I felt so unworthy, so ashamed.”

The Doctor began to cry again; this time deep sobs that reddened his face and shook his body, as he seemed to try to hold them back. Martha reached up and caressed his cheek with her thumb, wiping away some of the tears. “I’m so sorry, so very sorry,” he said, his hoarse voice barely above a whisper.

She’d rarely seen him so vulnerable, so laid bare, and it was heartbreaking. In a way, just then, he reminded her of John Smith in his final moments, sobbing for his false life as it all came crashing down. “We can get past this. If you stop pushing me away and stay honest with me, we can start moving forward from all this,” she whispered, trying to soothe him.

She leaned forward, hoping to kiss his cheek, but he turned his head to capture her lips with his own instead. Martha gasped a little in surprise, but let him slowly deepen the kiss, pushing his tongue past her lips as he slid his hands into her hair. They kissed languidly and Martha felt little quivers of desire spark through her as she heard his little moans and a soft growl from the back of his throat.

It felt so beautiful and right to finally have him really kissing her and so different than the brief kiss they’d shared on the moon – this one with more of a quiet, almost desperate passion than before. She even honestly felt a bit heady and dazed from it and was thankful she was sitting down, knowing her knees would have weakened if she’d had been standing.

They finally pulled from the kiss, both heavy-lidded and breathless. “Come with me,” he breathed, opening his eyes wide and longingly looking down at her as a smile crossed his lips. “You can bring John, of course. I’d really love to have you both. Just the three of us, traveling the universe.”

Martha looked up at the Doctor’s now-beaming expression. The last thing she wanted to do was break his hearts any more, but she knew she had to be honest with him. “I can’t.”

His face fell. “Why?” he asked weakly, his eyes suddenly sad again.

“I don’t know that I can do that all again, at least right now. I’ve really enjoyed my life lately, with my feet planted on terra firma and building roots there with John and my family and my work. I feel like I’m really making a difference, especially with UNIT. Maybe some day I could do it again, but right now…it just doesn’t feel right.”

“But I thought – “

“That because we’re starting to make amends that I’d go back to traveling with you?”

“Yes,” he whispered, biting his lip as he looked down at her, looking so broken as his eyes began to water again.

“Oh, Doctor,” she sighed, reaching up to stroke his cheek again. “I’m just not ready, not where I’m at in my life. That doesn’t mean I won’t change my mind in the future and that certainly doesn’t mean that I don’t still care about you. It’s just the wrong time, I’m sorry.”

“I could take you back just after we left, no one would know you were ever gone except the three of us and then the two of you could just pick up where you left off – “

“Doctor – “

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Okay,” he said, his tone resigned.

Martha continued to stroke his cheek, caressing one of his sideburns with her fingernail. “That definitely doesn’t mean you need to be a stranger. I still want you in my life. Just…more on my terms for the moment.”

“Your terms, got it,” he said, a weak smile now on his lips.

“Yes.”

“And are there any other ‘terms’ of yours I should be informed of?” His gaze flicked down at her lips.

“Perhaps. We might just have to play that by ear.”

The Doctor pulled Martha into a tight embrace, just sitting there quietly in one another’s arms. She always enjoyed the act of him holding her, amazed by how him simply wrapping his arms around her often made her feel so inexplicably safe with him.

She noted this was better than it had always been in the past though – he was no longer pulling back away from her quickly and awkwardly, but instead letting himself just be near her and feel what he was feeling for her.

The Doctor gave a contented sigh.

“I hope I’m not interrupting, I was just checking on you two.” They pulled away from each other and turned to see John had entered at the edge of the room. He looked a bit worried his arrival been ill timed.

“No, of course not, come and join us,” Martha said, shifting a bit to lean against the back of the couch as she patted the empty space next to her for him to sit. “Where is your hover chair?”

John sat down next to Martha, leaning over to kiss her on the cheek. “It’s parked at the moment, it was getting a bit in the way.”

The Doctor leaned around Martha to speak, “So, have you been enjoying yourself? You’ve been gone for a good two hours or so.”

“How did you know the time? I haven’t seen any clocks around, so I think I’ve lost all sense of time,” John asked with a laugh, seemingly surprised he’d been gone so long.

“Eh, it’s one of those things I know,” the Doctor tapped his forehead, “Time Lord and all that. Can be a great party trick in the right circumstances.”

The three of them laughed.

“Anyway, yes, I had a nice time. Spent some time with a lovely woman called Klaris, had some fun there, then had some other fun dallying about here and there, but,” he leaned over to kiss Martha on the forehead, “I couldn’t wait to get back to you.”

Martha blushed. “I should hope so,” she said, turning to kiss him.

She’d meant to just give him a brief peck on the lips, but her lingering arousal from her recent kiss with the Doctor (and, admittedly, her very slight worry over him with Klaris) spurred her on for a deeper, more passionate kiss.

John moaned in surprise.

“Sit on my lap, facing me,” he murmured – almost breathlessly – in her ear after they pulled from the kiss.

“But – “ Martha started, suddenly very aware again of the Doctor’s presence. She lowered her voice to a whisper. “What about the Doctor?”

“I’ve got that under control,” John replied, pulling her toward him, so that she straddled his lap.

They both moaned, Martha now feeling his hard length pressed exquisitely between her legs, only the light material of their chitons between them. God, she wanted him so badly.

John then turned to the Doctor, patting the space that Martha had just vacated beside him. “Come here, join us. You are a part of us now,” he offered softly.

Martha looked over at the Doctor and watched him slowly side against the couch until he was side by side with John, his hip pressed against her leg. “Right here?” he asked, his tone full with both surprise and nervousness.

John reached down and took the Doctor’s hand and lifted it to his lips, eliciting a surprised gasp from him. “Yes. Thank you for today, Doctor,” he murmured against his knuckles after a soft kiss, his eyes still on him, “It’s meant so much to me and I can tell it’s meant so much to Martha too. Now I wish to make love to my beautiful lover, to show her how happy I am and how important she is to me, but I also want you here with us.”

“What do you want me to do?” the Doctor asked shyly, his question seemingly directed more at Martha than John.

John laced his fingers with the Doctor’s and looked ahead to Martha. “What do you want, my love?”

“I’m…I’m not sure,” Martha stammered, feeling a bit overwhelmed by the situation. She reached up to stroke a hand through the Doctor’s hair, trailing her fingertips down across his cheek before caressing his lips with her thumb. Oh, he was so beautiful the way he was looking at her – so open and so giving, so much like she’d always dreamed he would regard her. “I want to, but I…”

“Not ready,” the Doctor said quietly, kissing the thumb stroking his lips. “Perhaps, too much, too fast, I should think.”

“Do you want him to leave?” John asked, sweetly.

Martha took in a deep breath, trying to analyze what she was feeling, trying to make sense of the whirlwind of emotion that was stirring within her. “No, I want him here.”

“Do you want him just to watch?”

Martha bit her lip, a sudden surge of desire rushing through her. “I…I want him to touch me too, but,” she paused, worrying her lip, “Maybe just over my chiton for now.”

“Like this?” John asked, moving the hand he was holding to rest on her breast. Martha groaned at the Doctor’s touch, her body alight with desire for him.

“Yes,” she hissed, feeling herself begin to tremble.

John let go of his hand and left it to cup her breast. Martha purred as the Doctor’s thumb began to softly circle her nipple.

“Lift your chiton up to your hips, Martha,” John commanded. She shuddered – loving when he would get firm and a bit authoritative with her.

She rose up on her knees and began to pull up the fabric as John shifted his own chiton up past his hips. John then pulled her down by the waist so she now trapped his hardness between her thighs. She rocked against him, shifting her hips to slide against the length of him, caressing him with her thighs as he pressed against her sex.

“Do you want me inside you?” John asked with a moan.

“God, yes,” she moaned and then bucked and grabbed tightly onto John’s shoulders when the Doctor pinched her nipple.

John lifted her slightly by the waist and helped her sink down onto his length, letting him fully penetrate her. “Beautiful,” the Doctor whispered, looking down to where their bodies met.

Martha began to ride John, enjoying the touch of one of his hands on her nipple, while the Doctor worked the other one. She knew it wasn’t going to take much for her to come – between the Lysios and the building sexual tension of the day, she felt ready to snap.

Martha gasped as she moved, throwing her head back, and grunting and groaning. It all felt so unbelievably good. She found herself trying to take John in as deeply as she could, desperately wanting him as deep inside her as he could possibly be, deep enough for their souls to just about touch.

She opened her eyes suddenly and looked over at the Doctor. He was looking at her with a delicious longing, his mouth slightly agape and his eyes heavily lidded. She roughly grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and drew him toward her for a kiss. It was even more intense than when he’d kissed her earlier, so much more primal and needy as they roughly moved their mouths against one another’s, tongue moving against tongue, and teeth clinking against teeth.

Martha pulled breathless from the kiss, reached down to his hand on her nipple, and shoved it roughly between her legs. “Make me come. I want you to make me come,” she whimpered.

The Doctor shifted up onto his knees beside them, now moving his long fingers against her clit and lightly stroking John as he moved in and out of her. He then reached around her with his other arm to pull on her other nipple, as John slid his hand down to her waist to hold her as he lifted his hips against her harder and faster.

Martha looked down and saw John’s free hand had slid over between the Doctor’s legs and was lightly stroking his cock through his chiton as the Doctor slowly bucked against his ministrations. The Doctor leaned forward and bit Martha on the neck, nibbling her flesh, and the flash of exquisite pain and the vision of her lover’s hand on him proved too much for her as she felt her climax suddenly surge through her.

“Oh yes, oh yes!” she called out, her body spasming against fingertips on her breasts and sex. John moved hard against her, lifting her up with each thrust, riding out her orgasm.

Martha opened her eyes to see the Doctor now passionately kissing John and delighted in the whimpers and moans from the two of them as John still moved against her and the Doctor moved against his hand.

The Doctor soon moved from their kiss to bury his head in John’s neck as his moans became louder and louder until his own orgasm hit him, bucking against John’s hand as his body shook with release.

John followed just after, his fingers gripping tight onto Martha’s waist as his back arched and he spent inside her with a deep guttural growl.

Martha fell against John’s chest, resting her head against his right shoulder, while the Doctor shifted to wrap an arm around her and drew his knees to his chest to curl up beside them. He resting his head on John’s left shoulder and John wrapped a comforting arm around him in return. They lay like that, in a sweaty heap, panting and sighing and just being together for a good hour. Martha knew she’d even nodded off to sleep at some point, but she didn’t think it mattered.

No, she felt too content for it to matter to her and so complete as she was being held by two of the men she loved most in the universe.

---

The metallic whir and grinding of the TARDIS engines filled the air as it landed. Doors were opened to the sitting room of John and Martha’s flat and the three of them made their way slowly out into the home, back to the “ordinary life.”

Martha was sure none of them wanted to cry or, especially, for it to end, but they all knew that it had to. The three of them clung together, holding one another, while tears fell down their cheeks and they made promises of visitations and declarations of love and trust.

“Don’t be a stranger,” Martha whispered to the Doctor.

“Yeah, you better not disappear for good, or I’ll come and find you,” John added with a chuckle, wiping tears from his eyes.

Their trip had been an emotionally intense one, but whether the Doctor had planned it or not, the three of them had been drawn together at a much deeper level than any of them anticipated.

“You can’t get rid of me so easily,” the Doctor replied, pulling the couple into another hug. “You’re my family now.”

He then reluctantly pulled from them and made his way into the TARDIS. John wrapped an arm around Martha and held her close as it disappeared from their home.

“He’ll be back,” he whispered, kissing her hair. “Everything is going to okay now.”

FIN

Bizarre Love Triangle, Part 2/3

2008-07-24T06:24:20Z

Title: Bizarre Love Triangle
Author: radiantbaby
Characters/Pairings: Ten/Martha, Dr. John/Martha, Ten/Martha/Dr. John [Note: Dr. John was a David Tennant character in the “Reproduction” episode of “Love in the 21st Century”]
Word Count: 22,860 total, 9441 in Part Two [in Word]
Genre: Angst, AU, Romance/Fluff, Polyamory, Porn, and a teeny bit of Slash
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Post-S3 Doctor Who, Post-S2 Torchwood
Summary: The Doctor takes Martha and John on a trip to an alien festival to work on making amends, but they end up getting more than they bargained for. Everyone is a bit more vulnerable than they’d like, but is it what they need to finally work things out between them? Crossover of Doctor Who and “Love in the 21st Century”
Beta: persiflage_1
Disclaimer: ~~All your Doctor Who are belong to us~~ Sadly, I own nothing related to
Doctor Who et al, nor do I own anything related to “Love in the 21st Century” – I am just playing around in their sandbox for a bit of fun.

This story is in three parts and will be posted over the next few days.

Previous stories in this series: Three Words, Doctors, Staring off a Cliff, Martha Jones, Storyteller, Trusting You, and Not With a Bang, But With a Whimper.

Author's Note: Thank you so much for the feedback so far! I'm going to try and get the final part of this posted on Thursday as I am going out of town for the weekend, but if I don't get to for some reason, you should definitely have it by Monday. Hang in there!

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[Fic Banner by angelfireeast]

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part one | part two | part three

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[Author's Note on Part Two: The dress Martha wears in this part is the one Freema wore at the F1 party. Oh, and at 9441 words, this will be the longest part of the three.]

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“Hello,” Martha said softly as she quietly made her way into the console room to find the Doctor. She was holding two steaming mugs of hot chocolate.

Since deciding to speak with him, she’d donned a pair of her own pajamas (found in the drawer of her room from when she’d lived there) and stopped by the kitchen on the way. She thought that the hot chocolate might provide a decent peace offering.

She almost didn’t want to say anything to him once she saw him. He was sitting on the captain’s chair, with his legs crossed on the console, and his head back with his eyes closed. She’d wondered for a moment if he was asleep.

After no reply, she turned to leave, but was stopped when she heard him speak. “Hello,” he said, his voice hoarse and quiet.

She looked back at him, but noticed his eyes were still closed. “I couldn’t sleep so I made some hot chocolate. I thought you might like some as well,” she offered, her tone soft, but reticent.

The Doctor opened his eyes and sat up, leaning over the back of the chair to look at her. He looked absolutely haggard – his hair even more wild than usual and his eyes red. Martha wondered for a moment if he might have been crying.

“I thought that I was supposed to…what did you say again? Oh yes, ‘keep away’ from you,” he said flatly, his expression almost as blank as his tone. She’d seen that look before – it was when his walls were up in full and he was keeping her at arm’s length.

His cold alien eyes during such times honestly always frightened her a bit. She felt a shiver now as she saw them gazing at her again.

“Well, if that’s the case, I could just drink this on my own in the kitchen, it’s no problem,” she offered in just as even of tone – giving him no upper hand in his perceived attempt at intimidating her – as she turned again to leave.

“No!” he called out after her, his voice suddenly louder, but also noticeably hoarse again. Martha turned to look at him again. He gave a weak smile. “I’d love some hot chocolate.”

Martha walked across the room, approaching him a bit cautiously, until she was in front of the captain’s chair. The Doctor took one of the mugs from her and then patted the seat beside him for her to join him. Reluctantly, she climbed into the chair by his side.

For a few long moments, they did nothing but quietly drink their hot (well, admittedly a bit lukewarm by this time) chocolate. They didn’t even look at one another – instead both of them stared ahead at the rotor on the console slowly going up and down as the TARDIS moved through the vortex.

“I’m really very bad at this,” the Doctor finally said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“This?”

“Communicating.”

“Could’ve fooled me, you love to talk,” Martha teased, though she knew what he really meant.

“Yes, well, as you were so astute at observing before when we still traveled together, I often talk and talk and talk, but I never really say anything.”

“Yes, well I’m not perfect either,” Martha sighed, “I really let my anger get the better of me earlier, I’m sorry.”

The Doctor took a long sip of his drink and then looked at her. She almost felt as if he was looking directly into her soul – his eyes were so piercing, so searching, in that moment. “No, I should be the one to apologize. I never realized,” he gasped as if holding back a sob and then took a deep breath, “I never realized I’d hurt you so badly.”

Martha looked down at the floor, staring at the grating as she found herself suddenly unable to look the Doctor in the eye. “Honestly, I probably didn’t realize myself until after I left. It took me getting out of the situation to be able to look back and truly see it all for what it was.”

“And what was it?”

“A trial by fire, I suppose?” She looked back at him. “How can I even come up with the right ordinary words to even do such an extraordinary experience justice?”

The Doctor slowly reached up, pushing an errant hair behind her ear. Martha trembled a bit at his tender touch as he continued to stroke her hair. “Did you enjoy none of it? Was it so awful?”

Martha’s heart felt like it was going to break in two as she looked at the Doctor’s sad expression. “Not awful, there was good and bad, yes,” she reached up and covered his hand in her hair with her own. “I wouldn’t honestly trade it for anything though. It helped make me who I am today, and you know what? I love who I am now.”

The Doctor smiled at her, the first real smile she’d seen from him all evening – a genuine smile that crinkled at the corners of his eyes and lit up his whole face. “I…do too.”

Martha shook her head. “What am I going to do with you, mister?”

The two of them put their mugs down to their sides and moved into a tight embrace, just letting themselves simply hold one another. “There are so many things I should have said, that I never did. I’m so sorry,” the Doctor whispered into Martha’s hair.

“We can figure this out, somehow. Especially if John’s got anything to do with it,” she whispered back with a chuckle.

Eventually they pulled from one another, just sitting on the chair holding hands as Martha chatted about all that had happened in her life since she’d left life on the TARDIS and the Doctor told her of the worlds and times that he’d visited during that period away from her.

Everything seemed to be going surprising well until –

“I have to say, I’m really sorry about…upsetting you earlier,” the Doctor said, seemingly out of nowhere as Martha was in the middle of telling an anecdote about one of her days at UNIT. His statement was awkward and rushed, surprising her as it was so different than the more comfortable conversation they’d been having until that point.

Martha eyed him curiously. “Upsetting? You mean in the kitchen? That’s alright, I – “

“No,” he interrupted firmly, “not in the kitchen.”

“I don’t understand.”

“With the pajamas I gave to John. I didn’t even think about it, honestly. I’d just grabbed them in a hurry -- I have so few pairs, you see. In fact, I only have two at the moment and the other pair, well, the other ones have a stain on them and I was a bit embarrassed about that, giving them to a guest and all, so I grabbed the cleaner ones and I just didn’t think, well, I had no idea, you might have bad memories associated with them.”

“I’m sure it was an honest mistake,” Martha started, but then stopped, the realization of what he was saying suddenly slamming into her. “Wait, how did you -- ?”

“Know?” he finished her sentence.

“Yes,” Martha replied, feeling suddenly very uncomfortable again.

The Doctor gestured around himself. “The TARDIS, of course,” he replied, as if it were the most obvious answer in the world.

“Wait, I’m confused.”

“You and John, with the pajamas – I know what happened.”

“What do you mean?” she asked slowly, enunciating each word.

“The two of you had sex tonight, pretending you were with John Smith because of the pajamas,” the Doctor answered plainly.

“What?” Martha exclaimed in horror, hopping off the chair, knocking her now-empty mug onto the floor and watching it break into pieces on the grating at her feet.

The Doctor looked down at the shattered mug and then back at her. “It’s okay, no need to be embarrassed, you’re not the first person to move on with someone who is a lot like me and well, with John, I mean, that’s just an uncanny resemblance there, so I can see why you would be with him so soon after – “

“He is not a replacement for you,” Martha said, anger suddenly seizing her.

“I thought – “

“Well, you thought wrong, Doctor. He might look like you, but trust me, he is so different. In fact, I almost didn’t get involved with him because he looked so much like you,” Martha growled.

The Doctor looked at her surprised and obviously a bit hurt. “I’m sorry, I just thought – “

“There you go, imagining the whole universe revolves around you again.”

“But Martha, I – “

“And how did you know about he and I tonight? Are you spying on us as well?”

“No, the TARDIS,” he replied, his tone now exasperated and the look of panic he’d had in his eyes earlier had suddenly returned. “She is sentient, we are linked, and thus I know what happens inside her. It’s usually just low-level stuff that I take little notice of, but when there is a lot of emotion or energy somewhere inside her, I usually feel it. You and John having sex, creating all that energy, using all that imagination, it was, well, it was the psychic equivalent of yelling. I couldn’t have ignored it if I wanted to!”

Martha covered her mouth in dismay, overwhelmed with the thought that the Doctor had been privy to such a private moment between John and her. She slowly knelt down, trying to pick up the broken ceramic on the floor that had not managed to fall through the grate to distract herself, but in her delirium, she cut herself on one of the pieces.

She hissed at the pain and the Doctor jumped off the chair and quickly knelt beside her. “Wait, wait, let me look at it,” he gently grabbed her hand to examine her wound.

“I’m the doctor here,” she said weakly, everything starting to spin around her.

“We both are,” he chuckled, “Just a small cut, it seems.” He suddenly pulled her finger into his mouth, lightly suckling it.

Martha watched him, feeling suddenly faint from the cut, the Doctor’s action, and his jarring confession. Things started to go a bit hazy and soon she blacked out.

---

When Martha finally came to, she was laying on the floor with the Doctor’s blazer bundled under her head as a pillow. She looked up to find him and saw him sitting cross-legged on the floor beside her, looking down at her.

“Hello,” he said, his tone hesitant.

“How long was I out?” Martha asked, groggily rubbing her head.

“About 15 minutes or so. I was starting to get worried.”

Martha looked at her hand, checking for the cut on her finger, but saw no wound. She looked up at the Doctor with confusion.

“I grabbed some of the Alenuut liquid bandage cream from the Med Bay for your cut and administered it while you were unconscious. If you remember that one time, when we visited New Saturn and used it after you were injured, it absorbs into your skin pretty quickly and that is why you no longer see your cut.”

“And the other shards? I’d hate for one of us to get cut again,” Martha asked, rising up on her elbows to look for the pieces of the broken mug.

“I took care of that, not to worry.”

“Oh. Thank you,” she said, suddenly feeling a bit dizzy again. Martha closed her eyes, holding her palm to her forehead.

“Dr. Jones, you should probably lie back down for now,” the Doctor said quietly.

She smiled wearily at him and then shifted to lie flat on her back again. Atop the grating wasn’t the most comfortable spot to lie, by any means, but she knew that she wasn’t ready to stand up either.

The Doctor reached down and began to lightly stroke her hair. “I did it again, didn’t I?” he asked, frowning a bit as he looked down at her.

“Hmm?”

“I said the wrong thing,” he said, swallowing hard. “I really didn’t mean to embarrass you and I certainly never meant to make you angry again.”

Martha sighed and gave a small chuckle. “I always find it fascinating that you can know so much yet so little at the same time. Sometimes I forget that you are an alien and not one of us.”

The Doctor flinched slightly at her words. Martha worried that maybe sometimes he tried to forget he wasn’t “one of us” either, as remembering who and what he was only served to remind him of the trauma of being the last of his kind. She immediately regretted what she’d said.

“It was really nice though,” he offered, his tone a bit shy as he still stroked her hair.

“What was?”

“The whole thing with you and John tonight. I felt so connected to the two of you, not just because of the psychic resonance from the TARDIS, but because you were thinking of me – well as John Smith, at least – when the two of you were together. That was,” he paused, looking away for a moment before looking back down at her, this time with unshed tears in his eyes, “really beautiful.”

“Doctor – “ Martha had no idea what to say to him – he had rendered her utterly speechless. She’d never thought to look at things from that perspective.

“I know, I know, it probably sounds weird and probably, I don’t know, creepy,” he said awkwardly, withdrawing his hand from her hair to tuck it nervously in his lap, “but really, to be honest – and honesty is what I need to work on with you, so here I go – to be honest, it was the first time I’d really felt a part of something since…well, since you left.”

“I’ve been alone, Martha. So alone. Listening to just my own voice echo off these walls,” he continued, gesturing around him, “But for that one moment, with the two of you making love, with you calling my name, feeling love for me…I just…it was…the best gift you could have given me. And I’m sorry if it sounds like I was intruding or eavesdropping. I never ever meant that. Really, I didn’t.”

Martha blinked, looking up at him. She could tell by the tension in his body that sharing that confession with her had been very difficult for him. The tears in his eyes also had not gone unnoticed as well. She reached over to take the hand that was in his lap, lacing her fingers with his. He smiled widely at her in response.

“It’s weird, yes, and honestly a bit much to take in at the moment, but I think I’m mostly okay with it. And,” Martha stopped, bit her lip for a moment, and then continued, “I’m happy that we could have helped you. I’m sorry to hear that you’ve been so lonely.”

“Thank you,” he breathed.

“Now, you don’t have any more intense confessions tonight, do you? I’m not sure I can take much more -- especially after the declarations of love and, well, knowing that you were a part of sex with my boyfriend earlier.”

The Doctor blushed and looked down.

“What?” Martha asked, noticing his sudden embarrassment.

“Nothing,” he sing-songed.

“What?”

“Well, I just,” he reached up with his free hand and scratched the back of his neck, “well, I enjoyed myself during your…rendezvous.”

“Enjoyed?” Martha asked suspiciously.

“Well, I mean, you are a very attractive woman and there I was not only completely aware of you having sex and your thoughts and your lover’s thoughts, but they were about me and…well…the inevitable happened.”

“The inevitable?” she asked, but then his meaning quickly dawned on her, “You lot do that?”

“Of course we do,” he said, sounding affronted, “In fact, we mostly have less guilt over it than you humans do. Mostly.”

“No guilt? Is that why you are blushing?” she teased.

“No, I just, well, it’s not something I usually talk about with my companions. I mean, if I were to do so, then they would get all curious, ask me questions – How does it work? Do you do it the same way human men do? – and, frankly, it would just get a bit uncomfortable.”

“How does it work? Do you do it the same way human men do?” she asked with a laugh, imitating the squawky, pseudo-feminine voice he’d used when relating the hypothetical questions he was so worried about.

“Martha!” He ran his hand through his hair and over his face.

“You can tell me, I’m a doctor.”

“Oh, now you are just getting cheeky with me.”

“I have to admit it’s a bit fun to get you embarrassed. I so rarely get the pleasure of seeing you blush,” she teased.

“Thank you, I am so glad that I could provide some entertainment,” he said with a chuckle.

Martha yawned.

“You should probably get back to bed,” the Doctor said. “We have a long day tomorrow. I’ll let the two of you sleep in as long as you need though and, if John gets up before you, just send him my way. I’m sure I can occupy him with showing him the TARDIS until you wake up.”

“You mean showing off the TARDIS.”

“Of course!” he laughed, but then suddenly looked down at her seriously. He lifted the hand he was holding and pressed it to his lips. “Thank you,” he said quietly.

“For what?”

“Everything.”

Martha simply smiled up at him. She was feeling thankful herself for the emotional roller-coaster of an evening she’d had with him – a roller-coaster which, despite the bumps, seemed to have brought them much closer together for once (or so she hoped).

“Okay, let’s get you up,” the Doctor said, slapping his thigh before releasing her hand and standing. He then helped Martha to her feet and after a minute of holding her as she got her equilibrium back, he deemed she was okay to walk.

“Do you know where we are going tomorrow, by the way?” she asked.

“I have some ideas.”

“As long as it isn’t any place dangerous. I know what your idea of a holiday is and I don’t want John put in any danger, especially with his injury,” she wagged her finger at him.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Okay, good night,” she said, standing on her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek.

His face joyfully lit up as he looked down at her and he leaned forward to kiss her on the forehead. “Sweet dreams, Dr. Martha Jones.”

Martha made her way to the doorway to the interior corridor and chuckled, turning around to look at the Doctor, who was now sitting on the captain’s chair again.

“What?” he asked curiously, turning to look at her.

“I’m still just trying to imagine you having a wank,” she teased.

“Martha!” he admonished, but she quickly made her way out of the room, laughing all the way back to her bedroom.

---

Martha awoke to an empty bed and reached over to turn on the bedside lamp. She grabbed her mobile and flipped it open to see the time, surprised that she slept about six hours – a total of about ten hours for the evening. She was rarely one to sleep so long and so deeply, but there was something comforting and soothing about the hum of the TARDIS that always seemed to give her better sleep than in the outside world.

After wiping the sleep from her eyes, she was surprised to notice a black dress hanging on a hook on the back of the door, which had, from her vantage point, what looked like a note pinned to it. Curiously she swung her legs over the side of the bed and made her way across the room to get a closer look.

She unpinned the note from the dress, folding it open to reveal John’s handwriting. It read:

“Martha,

I hope that you had a very good night’s rest.

The Doctor has chosen a destination for us – a planet called Anthion. He said that he would like to visit there with us to participate in a festival called the Eleutheria (yes, he’s looking over my shoulder right now and assisting with my spelling of such things).

The festival is semi-formal, hence the dress (I hope that you like it, both the Doctor and I found it in the wardrobe room and thought you would look stunning in it).

Once you get ready for the day, please put on the dress and meet us in the library (where we will be waiting for you). I greatly look forward to seeing you!

I love you, my darling.

XX John”

The dress was a beautiful black a-line dress with a bodice top. Martha smiled as it looked like it would be just the right size for her. She then rushed over to her wardrobe and found a small black bolero shrug (that she’d worn on occasion during her travels) as well as some black heels (she’d also kept around in case she needed them) in order to complete the look.

She hadn’t dressed up much lately since working at UNIT – mostly just wearing her black para-military garb – so she was delighted for the opportunity to dress up again. She also wanted to look nice for John and, if she were truly honest with herself, the Doctor as well.

Martha took a quick shower, thanking herself for leaving so many personal items in her room when she’d left, such as her toiletries, makeup, and some hair accessories. She’d honestly been in such a rush to leave after everything that happened with the Master, that she never bothered to grab her things when she left.

She was honestly a bit surprised it was all still in tact – as if she’d never been away, really – but then she also wondered if perhaps the TARDIS had hidden her room away once she was gone as she usually did, according to the Doctor, for his previous companions.

Or maybe, like Martha, there was just a part of the TARDIS that sort of wished she’d never left.

Martha pulled on the dress, happy with its fit as she twirled around in front of the mirror with it on. She added the black bolero shrug, her heels, and pinned her hair back, adding a small silver chain with a small onyx pendant to top off her ensemble.

She smiled at herself one last time in the mirror, vaguely nervous as to how John and the Doctor would take her look, and then made her way out of the room and down the corridor to the library.

---

When she entered the library, Martha could see the backs of John and the Doctor as they sat together on one of the couches. She stood quietly in the doorway for a moment, smiling to herself as it sounded like they were chatting about molecular biology and, more importantly, it sounded as if they were still getting on very well.

Eventually, she cleared her throat to get their attention, feeling suddenly cheeky. “Hello boys.”

The two of them stopped talking and turned around to see her. Almost in unison, they both jumped up from their seat to stand, their mouths gaping open (Martha smiled inwardly at their reaction).

“Martha, you look – “ the Doctor started, awe in his voice.

“Absolutely stunning!” John finished, his eyes glittering as he regarded her.

“Do you like it?” she asked, spinning around once for them.

“Oh yes!” exclaimed the Doctor.

“That, my dear, would be an understatement,” John said with a wink.

Martha finally had a moment to take in what they were wearing as well. The Doctor was wearing his usual brown pinstriped suit, but John – who never dresses up – was wearing a light grey oxford shirt with a black tie and some bespoke black trousers.

“Would you look at that? John in a tie and no jeans,” she teased.

He stepped around the couch and made his way over to her, causing her to gasp in surprise as he pressed his lips against hers in a very brief, but passionate kiss. He then shifted to wrap an arm around her. “It was the result of a little foray into the wardrobe room. Thankfully the Doctor had some clothes that fit me.”

“He needed help with the tie though,” the Doctor chirped, smiling at them both.

John laughed and looked down at Martha. “Yeah, he had to tie it for me,” he said, tugging on it, “seems like I’d forgotten how to properly tie one.”

“You missed the best part though,” the Doctor added enthusiastically, walking around the couch to approach them.

Martha looked between the two of them, confused.

The Doctor stood before them and pointed downward. “Look.”

Martha looked down and a wide smile crossed her features – John was wearing black Converse.

“My trainers got a bit tatty from yesterday, so the Doctor offered me these to wear.”

“I have to say that it’s an excellent style choice myself,” the Doctor said with a self-satisfied smile.

Martha shook her head at them both and laughed. “You would.”

---

The rumbling of the TARDIS came to a stop and the Doctor looked up from the console with a wide grin. “Might I present – Anthion!” he exclaimed, gesturing toward the door.

John pulled on a black blazer, Martha grabbed her leather coat, and the Doctor pulled on his long coat over his suit.

“You go first,” Martha nudged John. “This is always the best part.”

John smiled down at her and then up at the Doctor, obviously unable to hide his excitement. “Okay.”

The Doctor walked up behind Martha and slipped an arm around her shoulders. They watched as John walked down the ramp, stopping to look back at them, before pushing the doors open. The sweet smell of flowers drifted into the ship and Martha couldn’t help but take in a deep breath to smell them.

The Doctor smiled down at her. He moved his arm to offer her his elbow, and when she slid her arm through his, he then led her down the ramp to join John outside.

“It’s so beautiful, Doctor,” John said excitedly, standing in a vast grove of flowers.

Martha took in the sights herself, overwhelmed by the beauty of flowers stretching as far as the eye could see. “Yes, very beautiful,” she sighed.

“Anthion. It’s from the classical Greek word meaning ‘of the flowers.’ This settlement was founded during the Classical Renaissance of the 38th Century and was one of the Earth colonies modeled after Ancient Greece. Over that clearing you’ll be able to see their buildings. It’s an architecture style very reminiscent of the Greeks, but modernized of course.”

“So, there are humans here?” John asked.

“Yes, mostly humans,” the Doctor replied, “but for the festival, people come from all over, so you’ll see quite a diverse mixture of beings.”

John smiled at Martha and the Doctor. “Thank you,” he breathed, his face bright with enthusiasm. “May I pick a flower? Will it hurt anything?”

“Of course,” the Doctor said, “The Anthionites are very proud of their flowers and they want people to enjoy them.”

John reached down and plucked a beautiful, large blue flower from where he was standing, lifting it to his nose to smell it. He smiled widely and then made his way over to Martha, reaching up to push the stem through her hair for it settle there. He then stepped back and looked at her, his eyes gleaming with love and affection. “Even more beautiful than just the flowers themselves,” he whispered.

Martha blushed and looked up at the Doctor who was also smiling affectionately at her. “You are keeping him, aren’t you? With lines like that – ” he whispered teasingly, giving her a lighthearted nudge.

“I sure hope so,” John offered his arm and the three of them began to walk toward the settlement, arm in arm with Martha in the middle.

---

They arrived at the settlement after a short walk over a nearby hill, stopping on occasion to make sure that John’s ankle was fairing well. “One of the best parts of Anthion, John,” the Doctor had said during their walk, “is that they have these brilliant hover chairs that you can use – usually reserved for those who really want to relax on their holiday. That’s one of the reasons I picked this place, so we can mostly keep you off your ankle.”

The Doctor negotiated a hover chair once inside the gates of the city and he and Martha helped him into it. Martha thought it looked much like a metallic recliner, with cushions and arm rests and space for his legs to stretch out in front of him. It also had a small slot for storage in the back, where she gratefully tucked her jacket inside so she no longer needed to carry it.

“Is it comfortable?” Martha asked him.

“Yes, very. This is nice,” John replied.

The Doctor showed him how to work it and the three of them slowly made their way through the city, only having a few tense moments where John was having some initial trouble acclimatizing to the controls. “The controls are very sensitive,” he would say with an exasperated sigh, blushing over the few times he would make it lurch forward suddenly.

Looking around, Martha thought the Doctor had definitely been right about the settlement being modeled on Ancient Greece. All around them stood majestic, columned buildings, very similar to the likes of the Parthenon and other buildings from Greece’s antiquity. The difference was that these were brightly colored and ornate and the people walking around were not in togas (or whatever they used to wear in ancient times), but formal dresses and suits just like them.

“It’s odd in this setting to not see togas. Also the buildings are so bright and beautiful, not just the colorless stone in Greece, I love it,” Martha mused.

The Doctor chuckled. “Well, togas were worn by the Romans, men in particular. I think the term you are looking for is the chiton. You will see them tomorrow, in fact, we’ll all being wearing them for the festival.”

“Us? Wearing chitons?” Martha exclaimed. “I thought this was the festival,” she gestured around her at the people, “and why we were dressed up.”

“Well, this is more the opening day of the ceremony and the dressing up is for the banquet tonight. Tomorrow everyone will be given a chiton to wear for the real festivities.”

“That should be interesting. First you have me in a suit and then in a – what was it? – a chiton? Wonders never cease,” John said with a chuckle.

“Too bad I don’t have a camera,” Martha nudged his shoulder.

“As for the colors of the buildings,” the Doctor continued, “the buildings of Ancient Greece also had lots of bright, vibrant color, it’s just after so many years that it has all faded away. In fact, it didn’t look too dissimilar to this, albeit without the hover chairs, modernized clothing, alien life – though the Greeks might have argued that about the barbarians -- and technology.”

“I would love to see that,” John said excitedly. “I still just can’t get over the fact that you could even take us there. I mean, Martha told me the stories of when she traveled with you and I believe her, of course, but that doesn’t compare to actually being there and seeing the sights and smelling the air!”

“Oh no, I think he might have caught the traveling bug,” Martha teased.

---

After spending the rest of the afternoon and early evening walking through the agora, they convened with everyone in a very large building the Doctor had described as being the Anthionite assembly hall.

Stepping inside, Martha found herself a bit surprised by what she saw. On the outside, the building could have easily passed for a building from ancient times, but once inside, it looked just like any modern building – even futuristic for her and John – with things like computer terminals everywhere and a few people riding around on hover chairs.

The Doctor led them into a large open room with long rows of tables. They picked a spot toward the end, parking John’s hover chair in a designated area (for which the attendant gave him a metallic strip to claim it again after their meal), and joined in with the other festival attendants.

The feast itself was rather decadent, with a menu of many types of meats, cheeses, fruits, grains, and just about anything else Martha could think of. The three of them made conversation with some of the other visitors around them, finding that some of them were from other human colonies and some were aliens. Martha delighted in John’s enthusiasm in chatting with everyone, smiling as he seemed to be just taking it all in stride.

“So much wonderful food,” Martha finally groaned, wanting to eat more, but her body was more than sated.

“That’s for Dionysos, we are honoring sensuality and a part of that is a sensual feast to start things off,” said Ahren, a human woman who was sitting beside Martha.

The Doctor and John were engrossed a heated debate with Hector (Ahren’s husband) and a few other people nearby about democracy and philosophy (in true Greek symposium fashion), so Martha had begun a more civil discourse with Ahren instead. Early in their conversation, Martha found that Ahren was a nurse and their mutual interest in medicine meant that they had bonded quite quickly.

“I don’t know much about this festival, I’m just visiting on recommendation from a friend. Can you tell me a bit about it?” Martha asked, now more curious about the festivities as the Doctor hadn’t told her much at all about it.

“Of course! It’s called the Eleutheria, which is from the Greek word ‘Eleuthereus’ meaning liberation or freedom,” Ahren said with a smile.

“So, it’s a political festival, celebrating liberation from some faction or another?”

“No, no, no. The liberation is within ourselves. The festival is about dropping your emotional masks and just being yourself, letting your inhibitions go, and freely expressing all your desires.”

“You mean,” Martha paused, lowering her voice, and blushing, “it’s a sexual festival?”

Ahren laughed. “Oh Martha, it can be of course, and for some people it is. Many people come here with their lovers to be completely open with them and share affection at a deeper level that they don’t often do otherwise. For some people that means sex, for other it’s simply deep communication and understanding. Everyone takes it where they want to take it and it’s different for each individual. I’m sure you’ll discover that with both of your lovers there.”

“Both of my…? Oh no, I’m just with John. The Doctor is just a friend.”

Ahren looked at her, smirking as if she thought she might be lying. “Whatever you say, Martha.”

“So, I don’t know if I understand, though. If people have trouble opening up to one another, why would it be easier here?”

“The Lysios.”

“The Lysios?”

“Yes, tomorrow once you step into this building the Lysios will be in the air in very finite particles, so small you won’t even realize you are breathing it in. It has the effect on the body of drinking lots of wine, but without nasty side affects like addiction or even a hangover. In fact, it’s supposed to be quite pleasant and it breaks down inhibitions as it intoxicates you.”

“Like a drug? Is it safe?” Martha suddenly was feeling very worried.

“Well, as I said it is closer to wine anything – in fact, Lysios is synthesized from red wine from Earth,” Ahren said, resting a calming hand on Martha’s arm for a moment. “Either way it’s very safe. I did lots of research in medical journals before ever coming here and I wouldn’t have come if I were still concerned about it.”

“So this is your first time too?”

“Yes, my sister and a few of my friends have attended before, but I never have.”

“What made you decide to come now? If you don’t mind me asking, that is.”

“Hector and I,” Ahren paused, frowning a bit, “have been having a few problems with communicating. We are hoping that this will help us break through some of those barriers.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Ahren.”

“It’s okay. We are here now and that is what matters,” she said joyously, smiling at Martha.

---

The Doctor had just handed Martha the keycard to their hotel suite when he told them he would meet them upstairs in a few minutes. His psychic paper had helped garner them reservations at what seemed to be a very posh hotel called The Kalydon and, a little mystified by the whole experience, they let what was essentially a bellhop lead them to their room.

They were quite literally overwhelmed when they finally made it inside the room. It was large and spacious with white and beige fabrics draping everywhere and a small waterfall feature in the far corner of the room. In the middle of the room stood a majestic canopy bed with a sheer fabric that almost sparkled in the light, draped around its posts of ornately carved wood. It also had what looked to be soft white bedding and large pillows.

“Wow,” John breathed, slowly moving his hover chair around the room to get a better look.

“I know,” Martha exclaimed, truly taken aback.

A knock on the door startled them both from their wonder. Martha made her way over to the door to open it and saw the Doctor on the other side, smiling and holding a box in his arms. She stepped back to let him inside.

“Oh, this is nice,” he said excitedly, looking around the room before setting down the box on a small table near the door.

“How were you able to afford this?” John asked.

“Well, let’s just say they think I’m a government official from the nearby colony of Boedromion and it’s, well, sort of on government credit,” the Doctor replied, winking mischievously at him before sitting down at the table.

“What’s in the box?” Martha asked.

“Your chitons for tomorrow,” the Doctor pulled the lid off the box and lifted a cream colored piece of fabric from inside. “This one is yours.”

Martha walked over and pulled the chiton from the box. To her it just looked like a large piece of fabric. “It looks really beautiful, but I have no idea how to wear it.”

“Here,” the Doctor stood up, “let me show you.”

He stood before her and took the chiton from her, folding it in half. “Now spread out your arms,” he said and Martha let him wrap the fabric around her. “Now slip your arm through the fold and hold it up at your shoulders. Hang on just a moment.”

Once Martha was holding the chiton up, the Doctor began riffling through his pockets. He soon withdrew what looked like two deep-blue broaches. Martha gasped a bit as she looked at them – she thought they were absolutely beautiful.

He reached forward, pinning the fabric carefully on one side with the first broach, his tongue poking out a bit as he focused intently on what he was doing. “I bought these in the agora for you today,” he said bashfully, “I thought they would match your flower, if you wear it in your hair again tomorrow, that is.”

“Thank you,” she said, completely surprised by his gift.

He pinned the other side of her chiton with the second broach and then reached behind her to pull a long thin piece of fabric from the box, also cream-colored. “There, now you just wrap this around yourself,” he began to tie the cloth around her, just beneath her breasts, “and you are ready to go.”

He slid his hands down her sides softly to straighten out the material and then he stepped back to look at her. Martha honestly never thought that the act of being dressed could ever be just as sensual as being undressed until that moment.

She shivered at the thought, trying to tamp down her burgeoning desires.

“You look like a goddess,” John breathed, climbing out of his hover chair to stand beside the Doctor.

She looked down shyly at herself. “I don’t know, I feel a little foolish.”

“No need,” the Doctor said softly, “you’ll be the belle of the ball.”

Martha blushed at the Doctor’s heated gaze as his eyes roamed over her body, feeling herself becoming more and more aroused until he seemed to quickly snap out of it and gave her a more nervous smile.

“Right, you can just slip that back on tomorrow, no need to take off the pins unless you want to. I should leave the two of you alone for the night,” he said suddenly, taking another step back from her.

“Where are you staying?” John asked.

The Doctor bounded across the room and stood in front of what looked like a door. “Just in here, very nice too, a bit smaller, but I don’t need much,” he gestured at the door, “Our rooms are connected, but don’t worry, I have my own exit and entrance, so I will stay out of your way.”

“You don’t have to go just yet,” John offered gently. “We’d love your company.”

“No, I really should. I have some things I need to take care of tonight and I think I need to get some rest. Thanks for the offer though. I’ll meet up with the two of you in the morning, eh?” he replied rapidly, nervously tugging on his ear. “Well, good night then.”

With that he opened the door with his keycard, and made his way out the door and into his own room.

John turned to look at Martha. “You sure do know how to fluster a man,” he teased.

“Oh, he’s always that manic,” she waved him off, pulling the chiton over her head and replacing it in the box.

As she put it back inside, she noticed a light brown piece a fabric still in the box and assumed that was probably John’s chiton. Part of her felt thrilled at the idea of dressing him in it tomorrow and hoped the experience would be as sensual for him as it was for her.

“Right,” John said, wrapping his arms around her waist and leaning down to kiss her neck, murmuring against the flesh there as he spoke, “And it’s not at all because you look absolutely gorgeous today, especially in that chiton. I noticed it was see-through by the way and tomorrow you won’t have your dress on underneath. This trip is getting better and better.”

“John – “ she playfully scolded him.

“I can’t help it, you are just so desirable. You don’t know how hard it’s been to not grab you today, lift your dress, and go to my knees and lick you until you come.”

Martha moaned.

“Or better yet, there’s all those fantasies I’ve had today about you climbing onto the hover chair, lifting your dress, and straddling me. I wonder if people ever have hover chair sex. I think we might need to test it out,” he added, nibbling along her jaw.

“You are incorrigible,” she moaned, feeling her knees begin to weaken slightly.

“I do my best,” he gave her ear a quick nibble before sliding his hands forward to take hers. He began to slowly back across the room toward his hover chair, “Now, I think we do need to try out the chair – all in the name of science and space exploration, of course. You’ll be happy to know that I discovered a way to use the throttle control and the brake simultaneously to get a rather delightful vibration going through the chair. I tested it a few times this afternoon – again for science of course – while you were looking through the shops and I think you will enjoy it.”

“And you think we should do this now of all times?” she asked coyly, coming to rest between his legs as he perched on the edge of the chair.

John took her hand and dragged it lightly across the crotch of his trousers to stroke his erection. “Considering how much I want you, that would be a definite yes,” he said, his voice now deep and honeyed.

Martha blushed a little. “Okay,” she said a bit shyly.

“What?” he asked, reaching up to stroke her cheek, “Are you afraid the Doctor will hear us? I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if he did. In fact, I’d be willing to wager he’d like that very much.”

Martha bit her lip. “I have a confession.”

“A confession? Oh, I like confessions. Is it dirty?” he cooed, as his hands drifted down her back to cup her bottom, pulling her against him.

“Yes,” she gasped, writhing a bit against him where she stood.

He leaned down and began to kiss her neck again. “You want to fuck the Doctor, don’t you?”

Martha froze a bit at his words, her mind now racing. “I…well…it’s complicated.”

“Complicated in what way? All he needs to do is this,” he slipped one of his hands forward a bit more, his long fingers now caressing between her legs from behind.

Martha trembled against him, letting out a loud whimper.

“No, this is different,” she countered, trying to gather her thoughts and not be too distracted by the one hand that was caressing the fabric between her legs and the other that was slowly lifting her dress up. “I mean…well, you know when you mentioned that bit about being worried the Doctor will hear us.”

“Yes?”

“What if I told you he already had? Or, more accurately, what if it was like he was in the room with us, feeling what we were feeling?”

John shifted from kissing her neck to look her in the eye, his expression curious. “I don’t understand.”

“The TARDIS is sentient,” Martha said with a gasp, feeling John’s other hand slip beneath her dress and begin to rub the silk of her knickers stretched over her sex. “And the Doctor is psychically linked to it. Therefore he knows what goes on inside his ship and he can feel things that are happening, especially if they are intense.”

“And you think that happened when we were together last night?” he murmured, slipping a finger past the elastic of her knickers to stroke beneath them.

Martha wrapped an arm around John’s neck, tensing a bit in pleasure as he began to move a finger inside her. “I know it did. He told me.”

He pushed a second finger inside her, pushing them in as deeply as possible from that angle. “Well, that’s definitely interesting.”

“Are you angry?”

“Angry? Why would I be angry? I’ve always been a bit of an exhibitionist, so I find it…oddly arousing.”

Martha swallowed hard. “I do too, especially when he confessed he had to have a wank because of it.”

“I don’t blame him,” he said, waggling his eyebrows at her, “Now let’s get in this chair. I want to be inside you right now.”

He pulled his fingers from her, toed off his trainers, and then lifted himself onto the hover chair, scooting back to settle into it. Martha kicked off her heels and climbed onto the chair as well, crawling above him with her knees on either side of him, and pulled at his trousers to unfasten them. She quickly divested him of them as well as his underwear, as he unbuttoned his shirt and pulled off his tie.

Martha then reached behind her to remove her dress, but he stopped her. “Just your knickers for now,” he whispered, “I don’t want to wait any longer. I can get the rest off when I’m inside you.”

Martha smiled at him and then shifted above him to pull her knickers off, tossing them on the floor with the other clothes. She then lifted the ends of her dress, moving forward a bit along his hips, before easing down to take him inside herself. The two of them groaned in pleasure and she was once again happy that she’d recently started taking the pill as it made such impulsive escapades between them much easier to deal with.

She began to move atop him as he reached behind her to help her out of her bolero shrug, dress, and bra. Once her clothes were off, he pressed a few buttons on the control panel and smiled mischievously up at her as the chair began to vibrate.

“Oh,” Martha whimpered in surprise.

“Nice, isn’t it?” he asked softly, reaching up to pull her nipples between his fingers, pinching them.

“Yes,” she breathed, trembling a bit as she slowly moved above him.

“And you are so wonderfully wet,” he said, pushing his hips up in a sudden thrust into her. “Wet for both of us.”

Martha looked at him confused.

“The Doctor and I. We’ve both made you so wet. I’ll have to thank him for his part in this.”

Martha called out as he thrust up against her again.

“Here,” he put his hands on her hips and held her tight against him, his cock as deeply inside her as it could go, “press against me. You’ll feel the vibrations more. I want to feel you come.”

Martha leaned forward, draping herself across his chest to let her whole body feel everything rattling through her. She reached around to caress his nape while pressing her lips against his shoulder, shuddering against him.

John lightly ran his fingers up and down her back, ever so slowly grinding his hips shallowly against her.

“This festival,” she panted, “is about losing your inhibitions. Or at least that is what Ahren said.”

“Mmm, no wonder he brought us here.”

“It’s not all about sex, supposedly,” she corrected, becoming more and more breathless as her orgasm began its coil within her. “It’s about just talking too, really talking.”

John leaned up slightly, pulling her earlobe between his teeth. “Both are alright, you know.”

“What do you mean?” she moaned, clinging harder against him.

“Either talking or sleeping with him. I’m alright with both.”

“I…that wasn’t the plan. I mean, sex. Just talking. I don’t know…if…if I’m even ready for…more than that with him,” she panted.

“Whatever you need, I’m here for you,” he murmured against her ear, still delightfully nibbling her earlobe.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“Are fantasies too much to think about?”

“I don’t understand.”

“Well, I must admit that I loved how wet you got thinking about him being a part of our lovemaking yesterday and touching himself while thinking about us.”

Martha tensed a little as a spasm of pleasure rose through her with his words.

“I thought it might be nice for you to think of being with us both as you come. That would really turn me on,” he said softly, his voice so velvety that it caused a shiver to run through her body.

“I’m already so very close,” she gasped.

“Would you want us both at the same time? Just like with Jack?” he whispered.

“I…yes.”

“Maybe he could be behind you while you ride me, caressing your breasts.”

Martha groaned, now pulling hard on John’s hair.

“Imagine that for me,” he whispered.

Martha began to roll her hips against him, coaxing the orgasm to the surface that was already tightening in her limbs.

“…Rolling your nipples between his fingers, feeling his hard cock pressing against your back as you move on top of me. Faster and faster you move as he pinches your nipples harder and harder, maybe even biting your neck from behind – “ John murmured in her ear.

“Oh my god!” Martha called out, her climax slamming into her as she writhed atop him.

A few thrusts and John was following suit, lifting her up with his hips as he whimpered her name and released inside her.

They collapsed together against the chair, both trying to get their breathing under control as John reached up to turn off the vibrations from the chair.

“You are such a bad influence,” Martha finally whispered after a few minutes.

“Why do you say that?” he panted.

“Trying to get me to fantasize about the Doctor,” she laughed. “You know I’m just trying to work things out with him, not necessarily sleep with him.”

John turned his head to kiss her cheek, wrapping his arms around her in an embrace. “I know. I just want you to be happy and if that makes you happy, I want to support you in that.”

“You aren’t jealous?”

“Why should I be? We have such a strong, loving relationship – I don’t feel threatened about losing you to someone else. I know you love me, but I also know you don’t have to love only me.”

Martha leaned up on her elbows to look down at him. “Thank you, John.”

“For what?”

“Understanding and still loving me…despite my complicated life.”

“I love you and your complicated life, it always keeps things interesting.”

“That it does,” she said, leaning down to capture his lips in a kiss.

Martha was often surprised at how much more comfortable John had become with things in their time together, remembering his nervous envy of Jack when he first met him and how he used to be so afraid of running her off with him or someone else. Sometimes she wished she could be as confident as he was now about things, as she was now the one who still found herself worrying from time to time that he’d eventually get tired of being with her and leave.

They’d discussed opening their relationship before and had even had a few dalliances together both with Jack and a few couples at a local swing club they’d been to a handful of times, but there was still always the worry that he would find some other woman who excited him more, was better in bed, was more attractive, etc.

She pulled from their kiss and looked down at him, feeling her heart swell as he looked up at her with so much love in his eyes. I never want to lose this, she thought.

“I’m not going anywhere any time soon, my love.”

Martha blushed as she realized she’d voiced her sentiment aloud and not just in her head. She looked away, feeling a bit ashamed.

John reached up to caress her check, turning her head to look down at him again. “I mean it,” he said firmly. “You’ve got me. Completely.”

Martha felt the sting of tears in her eyes, so much from the events of the last two days was making her feel much more vulnerable than she liked. “What if you meet someone? I mean, even you said the chitons are see-through, what if you meet some amazingly beautiful woman tomorrow and forget all about me?”

“Well, first of all, if I were to hypothetically ‘meet’ someone tomorrow, I’m pretty bad with long distance relationships, especially ones that span time and space,” he said with a chuckle, before his tone turned serious again. “And, more importantly, even if I met someone, they wouldn’t be you. It would take a lot for someone to get me to love them as much as I love you and, frankly, I’m not sure it’s even possible, especially with you always being ahead of the curve as I seem to love you more and more everyday.”

“I just…worry sometimes.”

“No need to, really. Just like I know you aren’t going anywhere, you need to trust in that I’m not going anywhere either. It’s been an emotional two days and I get that you are probably feeling more vulnerable than usual, but I need you to know, with certainty, that it is going to take a lot to get rid of me, okay?”

Martha smiled despite herself, amazed again at how well he was always able to read her. “Okay,” she said, leaning down to kiss him again.

It was certainly going to be a challenge – especially with her insecurities rearing their ugly head from being around the Doctor again – but she was willing to trust John, no matter what it took.

===

Click for Part Three

Bizarre Love Triangle, Part 1/3

2008-07-23T03:25:30Z

Title: Bizarre Love Triangle
Author: radiantbaby
Characters/Pairings: Ten/Martha, Dr. John/Martha, Ten/Martha/Dr. John [Note: Dr. John was a David Tennant character in the “Reproduction” episode of “Love in the 21st Century”]
Word Count: 22,860 total, 6887 in Part One [in Word]
Genre: Angst, AU, Romance/Fluff, Polyamory, Porn, and a teeny bit of Slash
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Post-S3 Doctor Who, Post-S2 Torchwood
Summary: The Doctor takes Martha and John on a trip to an alien festival to work on making amends, but they end up getting more than they bargained for. Everyone is a bit more vulnerable than they’d like, but is it what they need to finally work things out between them? Crossover of Doctor Who and “Love in the 21st Century”
Beta: persiflage_1
Disclaimer: ~~All your Doctor Who are belong to us~~ Sadly, I own nothing related to
Doctor Who et al, nor do I own anything related to “Love in the 21st Century” – I am just playing around in their sandbox for a bit of fun.

This story is in three parts and will be posted over the next few days.

Previous stories in this series: Three Words, Doctors, Staring off a Cliff, Martha Jones, Storyteller, Trusting You, and Not With a Bang, But With a Whimper.

Author Notes: In Part Seven of our series, things pick up immediately after the events in Not With a Bang, But With a Whimper (and might be a bit confusing without reading that first). As referenced in the summary, the Doctor reiterates his offer to take Martha and John on a trip to thank them, but the opportunities for making amends with Martha are also made more available as he takes them to an alien festival that is guaranteed to shake things up between them all.

When I sat down to write this, I never intended it to turn out so long, but in the end, there was so much of the story that I felt needed to be told and I didn’t want to gloss over the important details. This story is very emotionally-packed with the characters needing to examine themselves and their relationship(s) to each other. I hope everyone enjoys coming along on their journey.

Anyway, as always, thanks so much as always to the magnificent persiflage_1 who beta’d this piece! Any other mistakes are all mine. Feedback is happy-making, so please leave a word or two [even if I am a bit slack in responding, your comments always make my day].

===

[Fic Banner by angelfireeast]

+ + +

part one | part two | part three

+ + +

“You see her, you can't touch her
You hear her, you can't hold her
You want her, you can't have her
You want to, but she won't let you”

- Franz Ferdinand – “Auf Achse”

===

“And we’re back in the car park!” the Doctor announced, as he pushed open the doors of the TARDIS.

Martha helped John out of the ship, helping him acclimatize to using his crutches, and the Doctor walked out past them. She planned on wrapping up his ankle as soon as she could get to her med kit and they had more of an idea of the status on the Hoppard-Greene incident – they weren’t necessarily out of an emergency yet.

Brigadier Chaudhry noted their arrival and approached them quickly, her expression very grave. “Dr. Jones, Dr. MacLachlan, Doctor,” she nodded at each of them in greeting, “Very happy to see that you three made it out safe. The others weren’t so lucky, I’m afraid. The rest of the building collapsed just a moment ago and, from the readings we’ve been able to get, there are no survivors. From what we could tell there were five people trapped together in a small room not far from where you were found.

We were able to get a phone into them once we discovered them. And we were able to speak to them, and get their names, but just as we were trying to help them escape, things began to collapse again. There is sadly nothing left of that side of the building. That leaves only one person unaccounted for,” she looked down at a clipboard she was holding, “a Jacob Hemmings.”

“He’s deceased as well, unfortunately, Brigadier,” the Doctor said solemnly, “He was with us and we were unable to save him.”

---

Everyone began to leave the scene one by one, the alien threat, at this point, still a mystery. John, Martha, and the Doctor each stood quietly just outside the TARDIS, watching people cleaning up, each silent as they mourned the dead.

“I’d really hoped we could save them all,” John offered quietly.

Martha looked over at him sadly, wrapping an arm around him as he precariously balanced on his crutches.

The Doctor stepped forward, putting a hand on John’s shoulder. “You did the best you could and you were brilliant, don’t forget that,” he said, his expression very serious until a sudden bright smile crossed his features, “Now let’s get that ankle taken care of, I know just the thing.”

The Doctor carefully led them both to the Med Bay inside the TARDIS, letting John lie down on one of the beds. Martha noticed John looking around the room with a look of awe and smiled at him.

“This is really amazing, I can only imagine the type of equipment you have in here,” John said excitedly.

“It is rather amazing, isn’t it?” Martha replied, kissing John’s cheek, pulling off his shoes, and then elevating his injured ankle to get a better look at it. “Oh, it’s not too bad. Looks like just a small sprain, thankfully. Does it hurt?”

“Not so much at the moment. I think I’m still in the throes of an adrenaline rush,” John chuckled.

“Aha, found it!” the Doctor exclaimed, startling John and Martha. He had been looking through a cabinet when he held up something that looked a bit like a clear plastic cast.

“This, my friends, is an air-cast from Rakxora-4. It’s waterproof and even fireproof, though, mind you, I do hope the latter won’t come into play. It’s a truly great piece of engineering, if I say so myself,” the Doctor said, obviously showing off a bit. “Anyway, put this on your ankle and it should heal nicely within the next few days.”

“An air-cast?” Martha asked, amused.

“You’d be surprised at how many of my companions are always tripping and hurting their ankles. Best investment I’ve ever made,” the Doctor replied, nudging Martha’s shoulder playfully as he walked over to John’s bedside.

The Doctor carefully slipped it onto his ankle. John gasped, as it seemed to immediately meld to his skin, looking almost invisible.

“There, it integrates itself into your skin and works to both heal and stabilize your injury,” the Doctor continued. “You can even walk around with it as it’s fully weight-bearing and everything, though I wouldn’t suggest walking around for any long periods of time if I were you. Go ahead, try it.”

John stood up slowly, tentatively putting his weight on his ankle. He was surprised when he didn’t feel any pain. He took a few steps and was even more surprised that he wasn’t even limping. “This is absolutely amazing!”

“I know!” the Doctor exclaimed, clearly proud of himself.

“Doctor, thank you so much!”

“It was the least I could do. Honest. Well, there’s one other thing I could do, of course,” the Doctor paused, pulling nervously on his ear, “I wasn’t joking when I offered the two of you a trip to say thank you.”

“Doctor – “ Martha started, ready to turn him down, but was interrupted by John.

“I’d like that Doctor. Thank you.”

Martha gave John a disapproving look.

---

The Doctor had gone to fetch some pajamas for John to wear for the night, leaving Martha and John alone in the Med Bay.

“It’s just one trip. I think we need this after all we went through today. I especially think the two of you need this. You can’t go on delaying the inevitable, at some point you two will have to talk. I mean, we can certainly leave and go back home, but you’ll be kicking yourself for not taking the opportunity to get things resolved,” John said softly, stroking Martha’s hair as she stood between his legs as he sat on the edge of the bed.

“I’m just…I don’t know if I’m ready,” she said, heaving a worried sigh.

“I’m right here, if you need. I can even talk to him along with you, but I can’t do it all for you, I’m afraid. I really wish I could – I’d do so in a heartbeat. Hell, I wish I could just pluck this lump of pain right out of you and get rid of it for good, but I can’t.”

He leaned forward and kissed her on the nose, caressing the nape of her neck as he leaned his forehead against hers.

“I know,” she whispered. Martha knew he was right – it was just so hard to fully admit it to herself.

“Now then, he’s putting on the kettle, so why don’t the two of you sit down and have some tea and a chat, eh? It doesn’t have to be life altering right away, just baby steps, remember? I’ll be in the bath as I’m quite filthy and smell,” John leaned down to sniff his shirt, “well, rather awful, and how am I going to get a beautiful woman like you to sleep with me tonight if I’m such a mess, eh?”

---

“How is he?” the Doctor asked, looking up as Martha entered the kitchen. He was sitting at the table, drinking tea and eating from a tin of biscuits.

“Good, off to take a bath and get some well-deserved rest,” she replied, walking over to pour herself some tea before sitting down across from him.

“He was very brave today. Absolutely brilliant actually,” he said with a small smile, pushing the tin of biscuits between them toward her.

“He has a habit of being rather brilliant, I’m afraid. I must speak to him about that,” she joked, before taking a sip of her tea. “Oh, this is nice.”

“It’s from the Tandoukoo region of Loont, 42nd century – very popular in that sector of the universe and very expensive from what I understand. I received some from Queen Rispertoo of Tandoukoo – I just love saying that, just rolls off the tongue – as a gift for helping her with some nasty aliens. The Skynt, they were called, sort of what you might call space pirates. They were trying to steal their crops and make money on the black market with the tea. Anyway, I only drink this on special occasions.”

“And is that what this is – a special occasion?” Martha asked, trying to stay the blush she felt rise in her cheeks.

“A very dear friend – who I’ve missed greatly – visiting me?” he replied seriously, looking her in the eye with a stare heavy with the weight of emotion she tried to read, tried to make sense of, until –

He quickly averted his gaze downward at the mug grasped between his hands. “Yes, I should think so,” he added, his voice now barely above a whisper.

Now it was Martha’s turn to look down into her tea.

“You,” the Doctor started, his voice a bit hoarse before he cleared his throat, “never called.”

He looked back up at her, but only barely held her gaze as he looked past her, over her shoulder.

“I haven’t needed you. I would have called if I needed you,” Martha replied brusquely, trying her best not to let the welling emotions show through her façade of composure.

“How long has it been? In your time, I mean?”

“Almost a year now.”

“And you never needed…?”

“Doctor, I have a life now, a life without you,” Martha said, flinching a bit at the surprising harshness of her words.

The Doctor flinched as well, returning his gaze downward toward his tea.

“How long has it been for you?” Martha asked, trying to soften her tone. They were getting into very emotional territory and it was honestly making her uncomfortable.

“The same. I keep time with the Earth on the TARDIS these days. It makes me feel…I don’t know, tied to something, a part of something,” he replied, stopping to sip his tea.

“No replacement for me traveling with you then?”

“Replacement…for you?” he looked up, frowning as he rolled the words in his mouth as if they were poison.

“You know what I mean. I know you’ve traveled with others, have you met anyone else?”

“Haven’t been looking,” he murmured curtly, taking a large swig of his tea.

“You really,” Martha paused, taking a sip of her own tea and she collected her thoughts, “shouldn’t be traveling alone. You need someone with you.”

“You’re the one who left me, remember?” he spat, something suddenly dangerous and desperate in his tone as his long fingers began to grip the ends of the table.

“Just because you need someone with you, doesn’t mean that person needs to be me,” she replied, trying to stay calm.

“It could have been.” His body was still tense – his words spoken through gritted teeth – and his grip was white-knuckled, looking much like an animal about to strike. It made her feel unnerved, so Martha slid her chair back to stand.

“No,” she said firmly, standing up and looking down at him as she drank her final sip of tea, “it couldn’t have been.”

He looked up at her, his expression changing from ferocity to panic in a flash as he blew out a deep breath and let go of the table. “Martha – “

“Good night, Doctor. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Please…please don’t go,” he said, his voice gravelly as he stood up.

“Doctor – “ she began, but then stopped herself with a shake of her head and turned to leave.

“But,” he rushed around the table and grabbed her by the arm to stop her. Martha recoiled at the slight shock of the pain of his fingers digging into her. “I…I love you.”

Martha turned around to meet his gaze, all of the anger that she had been trying to keep in check suddenly spinning out of her control. She harshly yanked herself away from his grip.

“What?” she snarled.

“I love you,” he reiterated quietly, his voice so very small. “I’m in love with you.”

“You are just…” Martha started, but then groaned in frustration as she found herself at a loss for words over his confession. “I can’t believe this.” She began to slowly back away toward the door.

“Well, believe it, I love you,” he said, louder this time, his expression pained and anxious, and his eyes dark and hollow.

“Don’t you think it’s a little late for that? Or is this one of your manipulative games to try and get me to travel with you again?”

“No, I – “

“Doctor, I’ve moved on. I have someone who loves me now, someone who appreciates me, and is good to me. I can’t bother with chasing you around any longer.”

“You don’t have to chase me. I’m right here.”

“You just don’t get it, do you? You can’t just try and say the ‘right words’ and make everything that happened between us okay. You really hurt me, and some days I’m still working through that. John wanted for me to reconcile things with you, but it’s becoming more and more apparent that this is absolutely futile.”

“Martha – “

“No, Doctor, you listen to me for once. We are no longer going to talk about this. I’m going to bed and then I will get up in the morning and go on that ‘one trip’ of yours to make John happy, but you better keep away from me because I absolutely refuse to let you bring me down again.”

With that, Martha turned and furiously made her way out of the kitchen and down the corridor to her bedroom.

---

Martha sighed as she went back inside her room, hoping that the mere presence of John would soothe her anger.

He was sitting on the bed with his hair wet and messy, reading the book Critical Care Diagnosis & Treatment in the 48th Quadrant of Khephare-4 (a book from the TARDIS library she had been reading during her travels with the Doctor that had apparently been left in the room). He smiled up at her when he heard her enter, but his expression fell quickly as he saw her staring at him with an almost horrified expression.

“Martha?” he asked, quickly putting the book on the bedside locker. “Are you okay?”

Martha took in a deep breath, pointing at him. “Where did you…get those?”

He looked down at himself. “What? Do you mean these?” he asked, tugging on the fabric of his pajamas.

She covered her mouth to muffle a sob, suddenly overcome with emotion. John was wearing the same pajamas that the Doctor had worn when he was John Smith back at Farringham in 1913. Just seeing him wearing them had brought a flood of emotions to the surface, many of which were painful and uncomfortable.

Martha was already feeling emotionally vulnerable from the combination of being back in the TARDIS, being back around the Doctor again, and her recent confrontation with him, but this was proving to be almost too much – the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back.

Martha bit her lip in an attempt to hold back her tears. It wasn’t working.

“I got them from the Doctor. I needed something to wear while my clothes were being cleaned and he offered them to me,” John said quietly, soothingly, as he slowly stood and gradually made his way toward her.

Martha flinched as she watched him approach – he looked as if he was approaching a skittish animal and she wondered what she must look like to him. “Those…those were…” she started, but the words were caught in her throat, raw and aching.

John stood before her, opening his arms to her. She reticently moved into his embrace, letting him wrap his arms around her and lightly stroke the nape of her neck with his fingertips. It was confusing to her senses – the warm, familiar embrace of her beloved mixed with the scent of the Doctor from the fabric of his clothes – and it made a part of her want to run from him and a part of her want to stay there forever.

“I didn’t mean to trigger you. I-I had no idea, none at all,” he whispered, his own voice now thick with emotion. He let her ride out her emotions, sobbing against him as he continued to caress her neck and hold her close.

Finally, after several minutes, when the emotions ceased to be so out of control, she spoke. Her voice was small and broken, but she was pleased it finally carried sound again. “Those were John Smith’s pajamas. I should know, I cleaned them many times.”

“John Smith from 1913?”

John was well aware of the stories of her travels with the Doctor, as Martha loved to share them with him – so relieved that she had someone understanding to share them with at all. Farringham had always been a bit of a sore spot for her and it was a time period that Martha had spoken at length about (albeit reluctantly at first, as it was a very emotional time for her).

“Yes. I just don’t know why he gave them to you to wear.”

“Maybe he didn’t think of it? He does seem to be a rather oblivious sort. Plus, you said he’s practically always wearing the same two suits – he may not have any other pajamas in his possession.”

“That’s the thing, he’s got this enormous wardrobe full of all sorts of clothes.”

“Again, oblivious, I should think,” John said, pulling back from her to look down into her eyes. “He really wants to make amends, Martha. I really don’t think he’s trying to hurt you.”

“Maybe,” she sighed. She didn’t feel ready to talk about her recent argument.

“You said he’s got an enormous wardrobe, eh?” John asked, a sudden mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

“Yes. Lots of different clothes, why?”

“What about a maid uniform?”

“A maid uniform? Yes, I should think so. I’m sure mine is there or perhaps others.”

“Would you put on the one you wore at Farringham for me?”

Martha looked at him, trying to figure out what he was asking of her. Obviously, it was no secret that maid uniforms were de rigueur fetish-wear in sexual role-play, but this felt…different. There was a look of desire in his eyes, certainly, but it was a look that was coupled with both concern and love.

He must have sensed her confusion because he stroked her cheek and added, “I want to make a memory.”

‘Making a memory’ – that was what John always called it when he tried to help Martha work through her bad experiences by ‘replacing’ them with better ones. It was something he was particularly fond of doing with her – whether it was role-playing with bondage in a safer, sensual way when she’d become terrified of being tied up (after her experience at the Pharm) or making love to her several times in complete darkness to help her with her new-found crippling fear of the dark (after an alien had taken her captive and left her alone in a small dark room for hours on end).

John – the healer – was always looking for new ways to help her reconcile her past and she was always moved when he would patiently work through such hard times with her, reiterating again and again how much he loved her.

“You want to be John Smith tonight?” she asked, starting to catch on to what he was asking.

“And you be my maid…Ms. Jones.”

“But I hated that time, I hated being a maid.”

“More reason to make you have something fond associated with it,” John said, stepping away and reaching down to take her hand to lead her over to the bed to sit. “Except this time, things will be different. John Smith will be in rapturous desire – that does sound very Edwardian, doesn’t it? – of you and you will be in control, not him.”

“I think you just want me in a maid uniform.” She playfully nudged shoulder with hers as they sat side by side.

“No, I just want you to reclaim your power in that situation. That’s what turns me on most, Martha – you knowing your potential and using it,” he said to her, a very serious timbre to his voice.

Martha smiled at him, her heart swelling in affection for this sweet man before her who meant so much to her. “Hang on,” she said, getting up to cross the room to grab a comb from the dressing table.

When she returned, she combed his hair to look more like John Smith’s. It was shorter, of course, and John didn’t have sideburns like the Doctor, but he did still share an uncanny resemblance nonetheless.

John was smiling as he looked at her, his eyes gleaming with affection as he watched her delicately fix his hair. “And how does he speak, Martha? Very posh RP, I should think,” he asked gently.

“Yes,” Martha breathed, putting the comb down on the bedside locker and stroking his cheek.

“A bit like this?” he asked, affecting an imitation of an accent similar to John Smith’s, with a bit of his Scottish accent bleeding through. It was by no means perfect, but she appreciated his effort.

“Yes.”

“Find your dress for me and put in on,” he said, back to his natural accent. He held her hand against his cheek, smiling sweetly at her. “And when you return, I’ll be John Smith. We’ll then make it up as we go.”

“I love you,” she whispered.

“And I love you,” he replied, leaning forward to kiss her lightly on the lips, “So very, very much.”

---

Martha slipped out of the room, being as quiet as she could, worried about running into the Doctor on her way to the wardrobe room. She wasn’t ready to face him just yet and she certainly didn’t want to try to explain why she was borrowing her maid’s uniform from the wardrobe.

She made it to the room without seeing him and searched through the racks of clothes to find what she was looking for. She felt a small nudge in her mind to check a rack to her left and thanked the TARDIS out loud for leading her to what she needed.

Once she found it, she stroked the fabric, feeling the sting of memories associated with it flow through her. She’d hardly ever felt so lost and alone as she had those months at Farringham and it only served as a reminder of that hard time she’d endured. She’d been so invisible with hardly anyone, except her friend Jenny – oh, Jenny, how I miss your laughter some times – ever taking any notice of her and so many people looking down on her simply because of her color and social standing.

Still, that was all part of what John – her John – wanted to work to make better. He might not have a time machine like the Doctor, but he was so very skilled at going back and helping her relive the past for the better.

Martha hid behind a rack of clothes, slipping out of her trousers and shirt and into the maid’s uniform. She decided – feeling rather naughty and aroused at the prospect of seducing ‘John Smith’ – that she would also forgo wearing her knickers as well. She found the simple shoes that she’d worn back in 1913 and changed into them, tossing her regular clothes and shoes into a bag she found on the floor of the room.

She looked at herself in the full length mirror, surprising herself at how much she looked like she did back then, but at the same time so very different. Her eyes were brighter these days, her features happier, and her hair was in a more modern style. Still, she felt it would do for what she needed to do tonight.

---

Martha made it back to her bedroom, again without crossing paths with the Doctor, and slipped quietly inside, setting her bag inside by the door.

John was sitting up in the bed, mostly in the dark, with only the bedside lamp on. He was reading again, but there was definitely something different about his demeanor – something more sophisticated. He set the book down on his lap after she’d closed the door and looked up at her curiously.

“Ms. Jones, to what do I owe this late night visit?” His accent, again, was not polished, but was surprisingly similar to John Smith’s nonetheless.

Martha curtsied in greeting, holding up the feather duster she’d grabbed from the wardrobe room. “Just doing some tidying up, sir.”

“Isn’t it a bit late for that, Ms. Jones?”

“There were…just a few things I needed to do before morning, sir,” she offered, trying to come up with how she wanted this scenario to work.

“Very well, then,” he said with a sigh and picked up his book to resume reading.

Martha dusted around the room, getting closer and closer to the bed as she did. She was already feeling throbbing and wet between her legs, her desire growing with each passing minute. She had already wanted to sleep with her John anyway – after being so afraid of losing him in the building and so relieved he’d come out alive – but that coupled with her tapping into her latent desires for John Smith, made her feel almost dizzy with lust.

She was quickly becoming aware that she wasn’t the only one feeling that way. She could feel the heat of John’s gaze on her back, watching her as she moved around the room. She contemplated on how she could seduce him – how she would have if she had the confidence or even the opportunity in 1913.

Seducing her own John was simple – he was nearly always ready and willing and Martha loved his almost feral libido – but John Smith was a cultured English gentleman and, while she wasn’t sure how her John would inhabit his ‘character’ for their role-playing, she knew that the inhibitions inherent with that would likely come into play.

“Ms. Jones?” John said, his voice breathy and thick. She felt a surge of desire rush through her at the tone, causing her legs to tremble a bit.

“Yes, sir?” she asked, continuing to dust the dresser, unable to look at him.

“The headboard…it’s very dusty. Could you please clean it for me?” he asked.

Martha smirked to herself, amused by his own awkward attempt at seduction, but surprised that it felt almost like something the naïve John Smith might actually say. “Yes, sir.”

She turned and made her way over to the bed and he placed his book on the bedside locker. “Just here. It always seems to collect so much dust,” he pointed at a spot over his shoulder.

Martha crawled onto the bed on her knees and leaned over him, dusting the headboard. “Here sir?” she asked, making sure to lightly brush her breasts against his chest as she moved past him.

John’s breath hitched. “Yes, Ms. Jones,” he said, his voice almost a whimper.

“This headboard is rather dusty, sir. It looks like I need to clean over here as well,” she said, moving to straddle him to dust the headboard on the other side of him.

Martha knew she was crossing a line – a social boundary – had she been seducing the actual John Smith, but this was just a fantasy, a game, and she decided to be a bit more bold than she’d usually be.

“Thank you, Ms. Jones. You always take such good care of me. I can see why my family employed you for so long,” he whispered, his voice deep and velvety.

“You're welcome, sir,” she said, in a singsong tone, leaning forward to continue to dust, her thigh brushing against his erection.

“Ms. Jones, I-I’ve never said, in fact I probably shouldn’t but, I feel the need to just now,” he stammered, swallowing audibly, “You are a very beautiful woman.”

“Thank you, sir.” She continued cleaning, not looking at him.

His hands moved up to her waist and Martha was surprised to feel that he was trembling a bit (John was always rather good with throwing himself into their role-playing, she noted). “And you smell so lovely,” he added, pressing down on her hips so her weight was pressed against his hardness.

Martha gasped softly, reveling in the feel of his erection bent beneath the fabric of his trousers and her own clothes. “Sir, may I ask what you are doing?” she asked, finding her own thighs trembling against his hips, wanting so badly to pull up her dress and sink down onto his hard length.

“I just…well, I just…wish to…ravish you, Ms. Jones,” he stammered.

Martha tried to stifle a laugh at his wording, even though his lascivious tone made her even wetter.

“Ravish me, sir? I’m simply here to tidy up. The teacher and the housemaid, I’m not sure that would be prudent, sir.” Martha was trying to sound as innocent and aloof as possible, though it was honestly a bit of a challenge.

“Let me be the judge of that, Ms. Jones. I am your master, am I not?”

“Yes, sir,” she replied, nodding her head submissively at him.

“In that case, I must know if you want me to…well, if you wish for me to ravish you, Ms. Jones. I am not some rabid animal hoping to throw myself at a nubile young woman without any reciprocity. If you do not wish to be here, I will let you go back to your quarters and we shall never speak of this again.”

Martha leaned forward, pressing her lips against his. He moaned against her mouth, only tentatively kissing her back. She then trailed her kisses from his mouth, along his jaw line and neck, and over to his ear. “I would like it very much if you ravished me, sir,” she whispered.

John’s hips bucked up beneath her at her words and she pulled back to look him in the eyes. He bit his lip, looking at her. “I’ve never – “ he breathed.

Both Martha and John had always talked about John Smith as a rather inexperienced, virginal sort of man, and it was honestly turning her on to imagine seducing someone for his ‘very first time.’ She felt the power of that surge through her, the sheer immortality of being the one he would always remember as his first and who would harness his first stirrings of passion, holding him in the palm of her hand.

She felt drunk on that feeling of control in that moment – letting it consume her.

She rubbed herself against his hard cock, moaning at the sensation and surely wetting the fabric of her uniform with her arousal. John’s head lolled back against the headboard, his eyes now closed tightly as his own moans and groans escaped his lips.

Martha moved from him – delighting in the disappointed whimper he’d made – and got up to stand next to the bed. He opened his eyes and stared at her, his expression dark and wanton.
She held his gaze as she slowly untied the white lacy apron from her uniform and dropped it to the floor. She then worked the buttons at the back of her uniform free and slid down the rest of her clothing, letting it pool at her feet. Finally, she stepped out of it, also toeing off her shoes, and then stood nude before him.

“Ms. Jones,” he breathed, sitting up and pulling off his sheet. He slung his feet over the edge of the bed, standing up briefly before kneeling in front of her. “I say, you are as beautiful as a goddess.”

He looked up at her almost reverently, reaching tentatively toward her thighs, and lightly brushing them up and down with his fingertips. Martha trembled at his touch, finding it so very difficult to be patient with his languorous seduction.

“In books I’ve read of men kissing the fruit of a woman’s vulva to give her pleasure. Might I have the honor of tasting you, Ms. Jones?”

“Yes, sir,” she whimpered, aching with desire for his tongue to press against her sex.

He leaned forward, gently pushing her legs apart, before dragging his tongue slowly against her slit. “As a goddess, you must be worshiped, Ms. Jones,” he whispered, following his words with another slow drag of his tongue.

His hands slipped up to her bottom and he held her steady as he began to work her with his tongue, pushing it as deeply inside her as he could, and thrusting it in and out of her as he curled it against the walls of her sex. He moved it to flick against and suckle the hardened nub of her clit, replacing his tongue with two fingers pushing inside her, moving slowly in and out of her.

Martha felt the beginnings of her climax coiling tighter and tighter within her and soon called out as it slammed into her, causing her almost lose her balance and fall against John’s mouth. He held her tightly, keeping her upright with his long fingers digging into the flesh of her bottom, and holding her as the spasms of orgasm ripped through her limbs.

“Oh yes, Mr. Smith. Oh yes!” she panted, her legs weak and trembling, and her hands pulling on his hair.

John still lightly lapped eagerly at her sex as her climax subsided, moaning each time she would shudder from the touch of his tongue against her heated flesh. As soon as she was able to breathe again, he ceased his ministrations, and slowly stood before her, holding her by the hips to steady her.

“Truly a goddess, Ms. Jones,” he breathed, leaning forward to capture her mouth in a kiss. Martha moaned at the taste of herself on his lips, the intimacy of the act fueling her desires even more acutely.

She wanted him and she wanted him now.

Martha pushed against his chest – pushing him to fall on the bed behind him – and then crawled over him as he lay back on the mattress. Martha then reached down between her legs to stroke his hardness through the material of his pajamas, enjoying the soft whimpers and the way he moved his hips up to meet her caress. “Oh my, oh yes, just like that, Ms. Jones.”

“Have you ever been inside a woman, sir?” she asked, moving her hand to slip under the waistband of his pajama trousers and to grasp his cock in her hand.

John groaned loudly, raising his hips to push his cock against her fist. “I’ve…no, I have not.”

“Would you like to be inside me, sir?” she teased, caressing his cock, up and down.

“I would…I would like that…very much, Ms. Jones,” he stammered.

Martha moved her hand from him, reaching up to slowly unbutton his top, letting it lie open at his sides. She then lifted herself to pull on his trousers, pulling them down to his thighs before John helped her get them the rest of the way off.

She looked down at him, marveling at the combination of emotions in his eyes – love, lust, innocence, and reverence – and then shifted herself to sink down on him, letting him fill her completely.

The two of them groaned from the penetration and John began to almost growl as she began to move atop him. Usually when they were together, he would often grab her by the hips and thrust upward against her, but as John Smith, he was being more reserved, more shy. His hands rested lightly on her hips, but he was letting her lead, letting her be in control of their pleasure.

“I’ve dreamt of this. You and I,” John said softly, his hands moving slowly upward to timidly caress her breasts.

“Oh, the things you say, sir,” she said with a gasp, surprised by a deep thrust he’d given her as he’d lifted his hips below her.

“I have…I just never thought…never let myself try,” he panted.

Martha smiled down at him, letting her thoughts drift. Oh, how she wished what he was saying was the truth of how John Smith had felt for her. She’d been so envious of Joan, so saddened by his ardent affection for her. John Smith, like the Doctor, seemingly never looked at her twice.

Then again, with the words the Doctor had said to her that very evening, she wasn’t sure of anything anymore –

“Come back, Martha,” John whispered, in his own accent. “Let this be a better memory.”

Martha shook her head of her thoughts and looked down at him, his expression somewhat concerned. “Ravish me, John Smith.”

John smiled and reached up to her back, flipping them over. He began to push against her hard and deep and fast, whispering all his desires in her ear – ‘Oh, Ms. Jones, how I’ve wanted this,’ ‘Oh, Ms. Jones, you feel so good, so amazingly good,’ ‘Oh, Ms. Jones, I could be like this with you forever.’

Martha soon felt herself coming again, her back arching upward to press herself against his body as he moved like a piston against her. His body was trembling, his thrusts wild and unrestrained, and he soon called out with his own climax, pressing tightly against her – hips pressed to hips – in his release.

John collapsed against her, rolling to her side to pull her against his chest. The two of them were breathing heavily, trying to calm themselves from the pleasure as they lay there silently for several long moments, Martha curled into John’s side.

“He told me he was in love with me tonight,” Martha finally said, her weakened and hoarse voice breaking the silence between them.

“I hoped he might,” John said simply, his accent returning to normal.

“What do you mean?” Martha asked, leaning up on an elbow to look him in the eye, very surprised by his reaction.

“He said as much when we were trapped in the building together.”

“Excuse me?”

“Martha,” John sighed, reaching up to caress her cheek with his thumb, “The Doctor loves you. You should really give him a chance. Is that what had made you so angry earlier – his confession?”

“What do you mean?”

“When you came back after my shower, I noticed that before you saw me, you were angry when you came into the room. Trust me, I know that look in your eyes and the way you hold your body when you’re upset.”

“Yes,” she said, suddenly feeling as if she might have overreacted during her conversation with the Doctor. She felt guilty and moved to lie back against the bed, looking up at the ceiling.

“It’s not easy, it’s going to take work, but I think the two of you can work things out,” he said, propping himself up to lean over her as he lightly caressed her belly, “You just both have to give each other a chance.”

Martha looked back up at John, feeling the warmth spread through her as he smiled sweetly at her. “Have I told you lately how much I love you?” she cooed.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he chuckled, “I can always stand to hear it again.”

She reached up and pulled him down by the neck, planting kisses all over his face, prefacing each kiss with an ‘I love you.’

---

Martha woke up in darkness, feeling disoriented. One thing she’d learned about sleeping in the TARDIS was that it messed around a bit with your internal clock – you couldn’t tell if it was night or day and, honestly, it wasn’t often either (or was it both?) in the vortex.

She reached over to the bedside locker to look for her mobile – she had left it there in reach before she went to bed in anticipation of waking up confused. Flipping it open, she spied the time. They’d been asleep for about four hours and, annoyingly enough, Martha was feeling wide-awake.

She lay in bed for several minutes, hoping another wave of fatigue would hit her, but instead she became more and more awake from the memory of her recent argument with the Doctor. She was honestly still trying to process it all, to make his words make sense in her head. He’d said he was in love with her and while she was poised to believe it was just another one of his games, John confessed to her that the Doctor had said about the same when they were trapped together.

While the Doctor was one to be dishonest at times for his own gains, John very rarely – if at all – was.

Perhaps I was too hard on him? Martha mused about the Doctor, suddenly uncomfortable with her venomous words to him. John thinks I should just make up with him, simple as that, but nothing is ever simple when it comes to the Doctor.

Whether she liked it or not, she and the Doctor were at a tense stalemate and someone needed to make a move to get them out of it. While she wasn’t sure about fully trusting him again, Martha begrudgingly decided that she would at least give the Doctor a chance to talk things out with her.

It was just one trip, right?

===

Click for Part Two

Doctor John and Martha wallpapers

2008-07-08T16:20:09Z

radiantbaby here.

Okay, so I was working on the cover art for an unrelated fanmix and ended playing around way too long on The GIMP (photo-editing software).

Anyway, I wanted to make myself a wallpaper as I'd never made one before and ended up making five different ones (basically variations of each other). They came out better than I expected (I've got #2 on my desktop now -- yay!). I mean, not perfect of course, but for a first attempt I thought they were good enough to share publically.

So, here you go for those interested -- I hope you like them:

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Please be sure to tell me if there is anything wrong with the links or if you need a different size (which I think I can do!).

Okay, I really need to go to bed. I go boom...

Martha/Dr John banner

2008-07-03T05:53:10Z

Thought I'd show off the banner that angelfireeast made for my fic, Trusting You.

Ten/Martha/John graphics

2008-07-02T08:30:30Z

radiantbaby here.

Tonight I was bored and decided to try my hand at making a Ten/Martha/John icon and ended up making a few random graphics as well for the heck of it.

Bear in mind that I do not have LEET GRAPHIX SKILLZ like several of you, but I decided to go ahead and share my work nonetheless.

*nervous*

First, my wee little icon:

And then my random graphics/banners/whatever:

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If you happen to like anything I made, feel free to take it with credit to either me (radiantbaby) or martha_dr_john. :)

Not With a Bang, But With a Whimper

2008-07-01T05:23:11Z

Title: Not With a Bang, But With a Whimper
Author: radiantbaby
Characters/Pairings: Ten, Martha/Dr. John, with allusions to Ten/Martha [Note: Dr. John was a David Tennant character in the “Reproduction” episode of “Love in the 21st Century”]
Word Count: 9016 [in Word]
Genre: Angst, AU, Adventure, with a bit of Romance
Rating: R, for a brief mention of sexual situations
Spoilers: Post-S3 Doctor Who, Post-S2 Torchwood
Summary: Martha and John are recruited to help UNIT with a suspicious bombing nearby, but when they get there, they have more than medical injuries and a potential alien threat to deal with – the Doctor is there. How will they all react to one another? Crossover of Doctor Who and “Love in the 21st Century”
Beta: The uber-wonderful persiflage_1!
Disclaimer: ~~All your Doctor Who are belong to us~~ Sadly, I own nothing related to Doctor Who et al, nor do I own anything related to “Love in the 21st Century” – I am just playing around in their sandbox for a bit of fun.

Previous stories in this series: Three Words, Doctors, Staring off a Cliff, Martha Jones, Storyteller, and Trusting You.

Author Notes: In Part Six of our series, our intrepid heroes finally cross paths with Ten – Martha’s first time seeing him since the events of “Last of the Timelords” and John’s first time meeting Ten at all. Most important to mention is that in this universe Ten is still traveling alone since Martha left (he’s not yet crossed paths with Donna, sadly enough), so he’s in a bit of a dark place emotionally -- more negative, less ebullient and verbose, etc. I skipped doing a rehash of the affair with the Sontarans as I couldn’t figure out how to fit John into that scenario, so this is totally AU. I cast John as being somewhat overprotective of Martha in this and a bit antagonistic with Ten. It just made sense in my head as I’m sure John doesn’t have the best notions of him at this point, especially as he’s only been getting half of the story (which, honestly, has been mostly negative). Martha is also still somewhat angsty over her relationship with Ten, so that comes into play as well. Oh, and I hope the “time stamps” aren’t too confusing – a few bits of the story are out of linear sequence, so I added them to help with that. And finally, I have a sad lack of medical knowledge, so apologies in advance if I totally fail on the medical stuff. Gah, I do go on – sorry.

Anyway, as always, thanks so much as always to the magnificent persiflage_1 who beta’d this piece! Any other mistakes are all mine. Feedback is happy-making, so please leave a word or two [even if I am a bit slack in responding, your comments always make my day].

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[Fic banner by angelfireeast]

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Martha moved above him, eyes closed, and her mouth hanging open slightly as little moans and gasps passed her lips. John simply lay there watching her, his hands on her hips, thinking of how beautiful she was and how lucky he was. It had been many months that they had been together, but there would still be moments like this when he was filled with an aching awe of having her mixed with an almost paralyzing fear of losing her.

Don’t mess this up, please god don’t let me ever do anything to mess this up, he chanted in his head, again and again, with each thrust, with each kiss –

Martha held his heart in the palm of her hand, something that no one ever had done in his life before, something he’d always sworn he would never let happen. For a moment – a flicker of time – he worried about losing himself to his feelings completely, dragged deep by an undertow.

He was afraid of the sheer power Martha held over him and he found himself wanting to run and hide from it all, but then she opened her eyes. She had a wide smile now on her lips and a look of deep love and affection brightening her eyes, causing a strong sense of wellbeing to sweep through him, just as his own climax washed over his body, and he knew, for once in his life, he was safe.

----

6:06 PM

John opened his eyes, a sudden pain seizing his limbs, unsure of how long he’d been unconscious. It was dark and the air felt thick with dust as he tried to take in a breath. As his thoughts caught up with his consciousness, he also noticed a weight on top of him.

It was a body, he quickly realized, but it was not Martha, as he’d just been thinking of (remembering their intimate moment shared that very morning), but someone else –

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I think so,” John replied with a groan. “You are crushing me a bit though, mate.”

“Ah, well that’s the thanks I get for saving you from a pile of falling metal and concrete.”

“Yeah, well I still don’t know if I’m actually alright. It’s a bit dark and, again, you are starting to crush me.”

“Hang on, I’ll get some light.”

There was a bit of shifting above him before a bright light suddenly shone in his face. John blinked his eyes as they adjusted to the light and then he saw the Doctor, above him, holding up a lantern. John had no idea where it had come from, but considering their dire circumstances, he didn’t question it.

The Doctor then shifted off him, shining the light around them in an attempt to evaluate their situation. John sat up beside him, looking around as well. From what he could tell they were now in a small enclosed space, roughly about 15 feet across x 10 feet high, surrounded by metal and other debris from the section of the building collapsing on itself.

John also quickly noticed the man he’d been attending to before the collapse, lying just a few feet from them, unconscious. He shifted to try and stand, but as he did, he wailed in pain. The Doctor looked up at him in surprise.

“My ankle,” he said through gritted teeth, “Looks like I sprained my ankle.”

John moved up to his knees and crawled toward the unconscious man – Jacob, he’d said his name was – to check on his condition. “Stay still, you’ll only hurt yourself more,” the Doctor reprimanded, hanging the lantern on a nearby metal rod and using his strange blue metal device against one of the walls of debris.

“I’m a doctor and that means that I both know my limits and, more importantly, I need to try and help him,” John snapped at him, stopping next to Jacob.

“Hmmph, of course,” the Doctor replied in an annoyed tone. He frowned and then resumed what he was doing.

John pulled Jacob’s head into his lap. “Jacob, can you hear me? Jacob?” he asked, checking him over with his tools from his med kit, many of which still lay scattered by his side.

From what he could see, Jacob’s legs had been crushed by several large pieces of metal from the building’s crumbling infrastructure, with one piece in particular jutting outward from his stomach. When they had found him before the most recent collapse, he seemed to just be suffering from mild dyspnea, but now his condition was much, much worse.

John looked down at the pool of blood gathering around his body. “I’m so sorry, Jacob,” he whispered, stroking the unconscious man’s hair as he tried to hold back stinging tears. Losing people in his care never ceased to affect him intensely, even if they were strangers.

“You did all you could,” the Doctor said softly, watching him, his expression now more sympathetic. “Now, help me with this. Please.”

“I can’t leave him,” he countered, “He’s about to die, I won’t let him die alone.”

“Everyone dies alone, John.”

“Well, not everyone has to,” John replied angrily, his tone softening to hum a sweet melody as he continued to stroke Jacob’s hair.

“You are as stubborn as she is. It’s no wonder you two get along so well.”

“Well, isn’t that a surprise, you noticed Martha can be stubborn?” John said sarcastically, “And here I was thinking you only saw right through her.”

----

5:02 PM

Martha stood on her tiptoes, pressing her lips against John’s. “Hello,” she whispered sweetly, stroking the side of his face.

John sighed as he pulled her against him in a tight hug. He had yet to ever tire of seeing her night after night when he would pick her up from work. His own work could be stressful and even a bit overwhelming at times, but when he saw Martha strolling toward him in the car park at the UNIT base, a wide smile lighting up her face as soon as their eyes met, everything would brighten up.

They were about to get into the car when they heard a loud explosion. Martha lost her balance as the ground shook slightly and fell against John. He wrapped his arms protectively around her and they looked up to see smoke in the distance.

As sudden as the thunderous noise, alarms began to sound and many officers began exiting the building, running in formation toward their jeeps. Brigadier Chaudhry came out of the building a moment later, heading toward Martha and John quickly, a walkie-talkie in her hand.

“Brigadier,” John said, saluting her once she was in front of them. It was more the casual, unpracticed salute of a civilian, but it was always appreciated by Chaudhry. She nodded in greeting to him.

After John had found out about his involvement during the year the Master was in power, he’d struck a new bond with the Brig, becoming a friend to her. It had admittedly been somewhat challenging for her at first – just being around him sometimes made her slip from her more professional, stoic demeanor into a sad remembrance of his death.

More often, though, John’s soothing presence helped with healing the wounds of that terrible time she remembered spending with him – the him that would never exist -- and helped her mourn the colleague she’d lost. Even if he could never remember all of the horrific events of that year himself, the doctor – the healer – in him wanted to do everything he could to help her.

“Dr. Jones, there’s been an emergency at the Hoppard-Greene office building just a few miles from here. We need medical assistance immediately,” Brigadier Chaudhry said.

Martha looked over at John, but before she could say anything, he spoke. “Is there anything I can do? I have my medical bag in the car,” John offered.

Brigadier Chaudhry smiled at him. “I hoped you’d offer, John. Yes, your assistance is both greatly needed and appreciated. We can take one of the jeeps,” she gestured across the car park, “and I can brief you on the way.”

John moved from his embrace with Martha and reached into his back seat to pull out his medical bag. The three of them began walking quickly toward the jeep when the Brigadier stopped them suddenly. “I don’t know if this matters, but I should mention this before we are on our way. I only just found out this information myself,” she said, seemingly uncomfortable all of a sudden, “and, as not only your boss, but your friend, I just wanted you to know before we got there. No surprises and all that.”

“Yes?” Martha asked, confused at her boss’ sudden shift in behaviour.

“The Doctor is there.”

---

5:10 PM

John held tightly onto Martha’s hand as they sat in the back of the jeep with the Brigadier and another UNIT officer driving. The brief was that a building – the Hoppard-Greene office building -- had been bombed and that UNIT had been monitoring suspicious alien activity there over the last two weeks and thought the incident was linked.

“Thankfully, the building is very new and there is only one company on record – a small law firm -- in the office at the moment. We estimate that only about twenty people were affected by the explosion,” the Brigadier continued.

“Were they involved in the alien activity?” Martha asked.

“From what we can tell, it looks like they were not involved at all. The reports were from some of the offices a few floors above them and usually during the night when they were not there. It looks like they had no idea anyone else was even in the building and, officially, there wasn’t supposed to be anyone else there.”

“And the Doctor?” Martha asked, her voice somewhat hoarse with the question.

John squeezed her hand tighter, knowing that she truly needed his support in that moment. While Martha seemed to be healed from much of her emotional trauma from her travels with the Doctor, he knew that there was a part of her that was terrified of crossing paths with him again, afraid of ripping open old wounds she wanted to stay sealed.

“He came to UNIT’s attention a few days ago from what I’ve been told. We have been monitoring him and he seems to be investigating the alien activity as well. He was not approached until moments ago, just after the bombing,” the Brigadier responded. “From my own brief, the first time the building came to our attention was when one of our satellites intercepted a strange signal in space originating from the building. We think that the Doctor might have also intercepted the signal and that is why he is there.”

A voice came over the walkie-talkie that the Brigadier held. “Hold on,” she said to Martha and John and then began a conversation with a UNIT officer already at the scene.

Martha looked at John and he could see the fear welling in her eyes. He wanted to hold her and calm her, but the emergency around them made that seem inappropriate. Instead he whispered, “It will be alright, I’ll be with you.”

He meant more than just dealing with the wounded civilians, of course, he also meant dealing with the Doctor.

“I never thought seeing him again would be like this. I don’t think I’m ready,” she whispered back.

“Martha Jones, you are the strongest and bravest woman that I know and I’ll be damned if I let some alien time traveler break down your spirit again. We’re going to get in there, do our jobs, and if we see him, then we will treat him as professionals and go from there. Don’t let him get under your skin, my darling, don’t give him your power,” he urged.

John could tell his tone was almost harsh, his anger over the Doctor seeping into his words despite himself, so he tried to soften the edges with a quick sweet kiss on Martha’s cheek. He could feel her trembling slightly and more than anything he felt that when he finally saw the Doctor, he was going to have to restrain his own rage with every fiber of his being.

Don’t let him get under your skin, don’t give him your power, he repeated to himself in his head, the words just as much for him as they were for Martha.

---

5:22 PM

When they arrived in the Hoppard-Greene office building’s car park, emergency vehicles, UNIT vehicles, and the fire brigade were all on the scene. John gave Martha’s hand one final squeeze before the four of them jumped from the jeep and started to make their way to the building.

A UNIT officer approached them quickly and after a few words exchanged between him and the Brigadier, he brandished a security badge for John to wear for clearance. The Brigadier and their driver soon rushed off, pointing to where he and Martha needed to go. John was putting on his badge when he turned to look at Martha.

“There we go, all official,” he announced. Martha was looking right past him though, over his shoulder, her eyes slightly glazed over as if she were in a daze. “Martha?”

He turned to look behind him, trying to follow her line of sight, and noticed what she was looking at. There, on the far end of the car park, was the Doctor’s blue box, his time machine. John had never seen it in reality, of course, but Martha had drawn a sketch of what it looked like once during one of their many talks about her travels.

“The TARDIS,” she whispered, a far away look still in her eyes, “This really is happening.”

John slid a hand to the nape of her neck, now looking her directly in the eye. “Martha, come back,” he said softly, caressing her neck, “You need to be here now. They need you. I need you.”

Martha’s vision shifted toward him and she slowly seemed to be looking at him again, her eyes adjusting. “There you go, that’s it, Martha. Just a bit of shock, a bit of a trigger. It will pass. I am right here,” he said soothingly, still caressing her.

“Oh God,” Martha said suddenly, blinking rapidly as if she had just come to, “I’m sorry. I just – ”

“It’s alright,” he said, leaning forward and kissing her on the forehead before pulling her into a tight embrace. “I’m right here. We’ll get through this together.”

Martha sighed against him and then took in a deep breath. She pulled back from him. “Thank you,” she whispered and then turned toward where the Brigadier had wanted them to go.

She began to walk, but then stopped, her body startled and stiffened again. “It’s him,” she whispered.

John looked before them to see a man about thirty feet from them, near the building. He was a tall man in a blue suit and he was just staring at the two of them. John felt his breath hitch for a moment at the sight of him – he did look almost exactly like him.

---

5:24 PM

“Let’s go,” Martha said, suddenly walking again. John trailed behind her, letting her lead.

As they neared the Doctor, he looked away. John couldn’t really read his expression, but, to his surprise, he almost looked ashamed or guilty. The one thing that did strike him was his eyes – they looked almost sad as he gazed at Martha and, for a moment, John almost felt a bit sorry for him.

Just for a moment though, for then he chastised himself for his pity, reminding himself of how he’d hurt Martha.

Two UNIT officers approached them and led them over to a few of the people lying on the grass outside the building. John opened his med kit and immediately started to assist with the woman nearest to him. Martha stayed nearby and began to assist an injured man.

“Most of the employees were able to get out of the building as they were in the atrium and -- therefore near the front door -- for a meeting when the bombing happened,” one of the UNIT officers briefed Martha and John as they assisted the injured. “We’ve rushed about ten people to the hospital already that had minor injuries. This lot sustained heavier injuries, so we’ve sent for some back up from the hospital as we didn’t have enough stretchers for them on hand. There are still six people unaccounted for left in the building, but we do not know their condition or exact location. Right now UNIT is holding off on letting the fire brigade go inside as we are unsure if there is a classified alien threat inside the building.”

“So, you need someone to go inside, check the medical condition of the survivors – if there are any – and help save them, but it needs to be someone with security clearance enough for the alien threat?” Martha said, her tone more professional and business-like than John was used to.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Okay, show me where to go.”

“Martha, no!” John stood up, protesting.

Martha stood up and pulled John to the side. “John, this is my job and I have to help anyone who might be trapped inside,” she said quietly, but firmly.

“But you could die, Martha. It’s not safe in there.”

“Yes, I could, but that doesn’t matter right now and you know it,” Martha started to turn away, but John grabbed her arm.

“Let me go instead. I have all the medical training you do, but more experience with trauma victims. I’m also stronger than you if there is any heavy lifting needed with either the bodies or the fallen debris,” he pleaded.

“John – ”

“You know I’m right, Martha. They need you out here and me in there,” he said, his tone resolute.

Martha sighed, looking at the ground and then back up at him, worry in her eyes. “Yes,” she said, resigned, “You’re right.”

“Tell me what to do.”

“Okay,” she waved the UNIT officers over, “Dr. John MacLachlan is going inside to help with the injured. Is anyone going to accompany him? We need at least one other person.”

“I will,” a voice said from their side. Everyone looked over to see who spoke – it was the Doctor.

“But ma’am, I am not sure Dr. MacLachlan has the right security access.”

“Call the Brig, she will confirm,” Martha said sternly, barely looking at the Doctor who was walking towards them.

The officer pulled out his walkie-talkie and contacted Brigadier Chaudhry. Martha held John’s hand for a moment looking up at him. He squeezed her hand back to calm her. “He is clear to go inside, ma’am,” the officer finally said, a look of surprise on his face.

John supposed the Brig really did believe in him.

“Give me that, please,” Martha reached for the officer’s walkie-talkie and handed it to John, her hand over his as he held it. “Use this if you need any help, you understand? At the first sign of trouble, you got that?” she said decisively.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, swallowing hard as he looked at the frightened expression she seemed to be trying so hard to hide. He resisted pulling her into a hug. “You coming?” he asked sharply, turning to look at the Doctor, who was standing beside him with his hands deep in his pockets.

“Yep,” he said in an inflated manner, popping the ‘p’ at the end.

“Good luck,” Martha said, moving from him.

She had only looked at John when she’d said it – still not acknowledging the Doctor – and John could tell in his peripheral vision that the Doctor’s jaw had tightened as a result.

---

5:36 PM

“I really don’t want to talk with you. I’m just here to help these people,” John said as he made his way inside the building, the Doctor trailing behind.

“Are you always this pleasant?”

“No, but I’m making an exception for you.” He pushed some metal beams aside to ascend what was left of a stairwell.

“You don’t look like a UNIT medic.”

“Very good, Doctor. Ding Ding, you should win a prize. You really are amazingly intelligent and perceptive.”

“So, you know my name. I take it that…you are with Martha then?”

“If you mean ‘with Martha’ as in that I am dating her, that I am in love with her, and, oh, she means the world to me, that would be a yes. I know your name from her, and yes, I know all about the two of you.”

“My reputation must precede me then.”

John stopped and looked the Time Lord in the eye, trying to keep himself calm and focused on the emergency at hand and resist the urge to confront him. There were so many things he’d wanted to say to him since Martha told him about her experiences with him, but it was not the right time.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Doctor. You are the last person I want to be with in this situation right now. I can’t promise you that I won’t punch you at some point, but right now, I’m being professional and I only ask that you do the same. This isn’t about you or me or Martha, this is about people in this building that I – we – need to save. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” the Doctor replied, his expression unreadable.

It was going to be a long night.

---

5:39 PM

In the first room they reached, the floor was mostly caved in and the door that they needed lay across the room.

“I think if we ease ourselves right up against the wall, we should be able to make it across. It looks like there are some bolts in the wall where desks were attached, we can use those to hang onto,” John offered, shining his torch into the room.

“Sounds like a plan. Do you think we’ll fit on the ledge? I can’t tell from here.”

“Yeah,” John looked back, looking the Doctor up and down, “Same build as me, we’ll fit.”

“Skinny streaks of nothing, we are.”

“Speak for yourself.”

They eased themselves onto the ledge by the wall, John with his torch in his mouth and the Doctor with his torch now in his pocket. They moved slowly, using the torn edges of the wall much like grappling holds in mountain climbing. John wished for a moment he was in better shape, feeling his arms shaking a bit with the strain of clinging so hard to the wall, but his adrenaline spurred him on.

“Are you doing okay, John?”

“Mmgh,” he nodded, talking around the torch in his mouth.

“Take it slowly, just one step at a time. You can do it. We’ll get through this.”

“We better,” he mumbled against the plastic torch.

They were nearly across when one of the bolts that John was holding pulled from the wall, causing him to slip, falling hard to his knees on the ledge. The Doctor had grabbed him before he fell any further, but his torch and walkie-talkie (which had been clipped to his belt) both slipped from him and fell down several feet into the rubble, smashing to pieces.

“Dammit,” John cursed.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you. Can you stand?”

“The torch, the walkie-talkie. We can’t call for help,” John said, feeling suddenly vulnerable.

“We will get through this, John, but you have to listen to me. Again, are you able to stand?”

“I…think so,” he shifted slightly.

“I’ve got you, hold onto me if you need, I’ve got a good grip on the wall.”

John shifted onto one leg slowly and with the Doctor’s help was able to pull himself back up to a standing position. His knees were somewhat sore – certain to be bruised in a few hours, at least – but from what he could tell he was otherwise not injured.

“Thanks,” he said quietly, but then put his ‘mask’ back on. He was not ready to bow at the Doctor’s feet just yet.

A few more steps and they were finally across the ledge. The door was thankfully unlocked and they carefully made their way into the next room. It was large, but still lit slightly from some holes in the wall letting in the sun from outside. It looked like what was left of the main office of the law firm.

They looked around to see if anyone was there.

---

5:56 PM

“Over here,” John called out, rushing toward a man on the floor. The Doctor followed behind.

John opened up his med kit and pulled out his stethoscope. The man was breathing heavily and erratically, so John helped him sit up, massaging his back.

“Dyspnea,” he said, looking up at the Doctor. The man coughed, trying to get control of his breathing.

“That’s it, keep coughing, it will help. Can you tell us your name?” the Doctor asked him as he squatted down beside them, pulling a metal device from his coat with a shining blue tip. He pointed it at the man and it made an unsettling squealing noise. John flinched at the high-pitched sound.

“Jacob,” the man gasped, still having trouble breathing.

“Jacob, do you have asthma?” John asked quietly, attempting to soothe him as he continued to rub his back, trying to ease his lungs.

He nodded in assent almost wildly.

“And do you have your rescue inhaler nearby?”

Jacob looked worried. “No,” he gasped. “It’s in – was in – my desk.”

“It’s okay, Jacob. I’m a doctor and I’m here to help you, but first, you have to try and calm down. I know this is really frightening, but we aren’t going to let anything happen to you. The more you panic, the harder it is for you to breathe and we don’t want that, do we?” John spoke quietly and soothingly, trying his best to ease him.

The three of them sat for several long moments, simply giving Jacob some time to calm himself a bit before John got up. “It’s okay, Jacob, I’ll be right back.”

“Doctor, can I have a word?” John grabbed the Doctor by the arm and pulled him over to the side. “I looks like I may have to intubate him if he stays this way. I’ve got some trache tubes in my med kit, if we need. I am just concerned that the exertion of moving him will only exacerbate his respiratory issues.”

“Yes, I – " the Doctor began, but looked up at the ceiling suddenly.

The wail of metal bending and scraping against metal filled the room and the next thing John knew he was being quickly pushed to the ground.

Everything went black.

---

6:09 PM

“Only saw right through her? John, I don’t know what Martha’s been telling you, but I can assure you that is most definitely and assuredly not the case,” the Doctor countered, looking positively affronted.

“Oh, of course it’s not,” John replied sardonically, glaring at him as if to provoke him.

John was getting tired of playing nice. It had been a long, hard day and now he had one man dying in his arms and another man seemingly trying to invalidate everything he’d heard Martha tell him.

“And you – someone who was obviously not there – have the audacity to act as if you are omniscient about how things were between Martha and myself. Oh, how wonderful! You humans never cease to amaze me with your keen intellect and razor sharp wit. Perhaps you can enlighten me about what actually happened as I am so obviously wrong about things and seem to be misremembering events. I am rather old, you see, and maybe my memory is starting to go,” the Doctor replied scathingly.

His eyes had taken on a dangerous stare and John had to admit it made him feel somewhat frightened and, honestly, a little small. “Eyes I dare not meet in dreams,” as T.S. Elliot had once said.

John knew from Martha’s stories that this was a man – a being – that had faced down armies and aliens of all sorts for centuries. “The Oncoming Storm”, she had called him once and, despite his own anger, the last thing John wanted was to get caught up in its perilous whirling tempest.

“This doesn’t need to be a pissing contest,” John replied with a sigh, breaking their eye contact to ease the building tension between then. He looked back down at Jacob and checked his pulse with his fingertips, his suspicions confirmed. “He’s dead now, by the way,” he added softly, “Can we be silent for a moment to honor that?”

John glanced up at the Doctor and the Time Lord watched him as he cradled the man in his arms. The Doctor blew out a sigh, his own expression softening. “Of course,” he whispered.

The Doctor stood against the wall of debris, his arms crossed as he regarded the two men on the floor for several long and quiet minutes. John could feel his eyes on him – as if he was studying him – but John was barely returning his gaze.

“I did see her,” the Doctor finally said quietly, an unexpected broken tone to his voice.

John looked up at him, finally moving Jacob’s head from his lap to stretch out his legs. He crawled a few feet from Jacob’s prone body and grabbed an ice compress from his med kit to put it on his ankle. He then pulled over a large chunk of metal from nearby to elevate his leg on. After situating himself, he let out a deep sigh. “Yeah, I think I know that now.”

“Why do you say that? You seemed so sure of the opposite only minutes ago,” the Doctor asked quietly, but oddly, without any confrontation, only curiosity, in his tone. He was fiddling with the hem of his coat, suddenly looking less like a ferocious enemy and more like a vulnerable boy.

“Because I think,” John shifted his body to lie back, propping himself up on his elbows, “that you love her.”

The Doctor looked away, staring at the wall before him for a long moment. Then he shrugged off his trenchcoat, balling it up. “Here, use this for a pillow. It looks like we’re probably going to be here for a while,” he offered, walking over and handing it to John.

John looked up at him in interest, trying to work out his mercurial moods and emotional aloofness. He could see why he had been so mysterious to Martha, but he could also see how intriguing he was. The Doctor sat down next to him, pulling his knees up to his chest.

“Do you think we are going to die here too, Doctor?” John asked him quietly.

The Doctor held out his metal device and John noticed it was flashing blue. “I have this sending a distress signal. UNIT should be able to pick it up and track us pretty easily. It might be a challenge to actually get into here and get us, but not impossible. Now if we can manage to not have the building collapse any further, I think we might just make it out.”

“Way to instill confidence,” John said with a laugh.

“Yeah, well, I do my best,” the Doctor replied, laughing and smiling along with him.

“What is that, by the way?” John asked, gesturing at his device.

“A sonic screwdriver,” the Doctor said, exaggerating each word in a comically dramatic way. “It does all sorts of things for me, a bit of a fix-all device one could say.”

“It slices! It dices!” John joked, imitating the classic advert catchphrase with a bad attempt at an American accent.

“But wait Johnny, there’s more! If you call within the next 10 minutes, you'll also get – ” the Doctor added, playing along as he reached into his pocket, making a face while digging around before pulling out a ball that he held aloft, “You’ll get this amazing rubber ball.”

“That bounces!”

“Yes, that bounces!” the Doctor bounced it on the floor twice before catching it and stuffing it back in his pocket, “But supplies are limited, and this deal is available for today only!”

The two of them looked at one another and suddenly broke into peals of laughter, eventually wiping tears from their cheeks as they both caught their breath again.

“Doctor?” John panted.

“Yes?”

“Don’t call me Johnny,” John replied with a playful smirk.

“Will do,” the Doctor said with a nod, “And John?”

“Yes?”

“How is she? I mean, how is she really?”

“Well,” John sighed, lying back on the Doctor’s coat, “she has good days and bad, honestly. Thankfully, it’s a case of many more good days than bad – at least nowadays. She still has times when things get triggered, though, and she still has nightmares on occasion, mostly about that year.”

“You know about that as well?” he asked, an eyebrow arched in curiosity

“As much as I can without remembering it myself, I suppose. I can only go on what I’ve been told but it seems everyone close to me remembers it – Martha, Brigadier Chaudhry, Jack – so when they told me of their experiences, I’ve given my support and empathy to the best of my ability for the awful trials they went through.”

“Jack? You’ve know Jack then?”

John smirked, a blush rising in his cheeks despite himself. “Yes, you can say that.”

“Ah, I see,” the Doctor said, his eyes widening a bit in recognition at the innuendo, “That’s our Jack.”

“Indeed.”

The Doctor began playing with a shoelace on his trainers, wrapping an arm even tighter around his knees. “That year…it was a really bad time. For everyone,” he said, looking down at the floor as he spoke.

“But you rewound it for most of them.”

“Yes, but not everyone. I ruined several people’s lives just as I saved them. I ruined Martha’s life. She’ll never be the same. That sweet innocent spark she had in her eyes when I first met her is gone forever.”

“Her life is not ruined though, Doctor. You are pompous, aren’t you?” The Doctor looked at him with worry in his eyes, but his expression softened when he saw John was smiling at him. “She is stronger now. Yes, she saw things that she probably should never have seen and, trust me, I wish she never had to go through it either. But you know what? Even when I’m holding her as she cries over what happened, what she saw, she always says she never regretted a thing. She says that it made her who she is today and she wouldn’t change that for the world.”

“Maybe,” the Doctor replied with a lackadaisical shrug.

“It’s true. Still, you know what I think did the most damage? Losing her best friend.”

“She walked away from me,” the Doctor countered despondently, looking back down at the floor and playing with a shoelace again.

“Well, as you so eloquently said earlier, I was not there, but from what I see, you walked away from her first. You pushed and pushed and pushed her away. It’s no wonder she finally left.”

“What do you know about anything?” the Doctor spat.

“Again, I wasn’t there, but I can only go with what I was told and what I see.”

“And what do you see?” he snarled.

“I see a man running from his feelings. Even since I met you, you do nothing but evade emotional questions and statements, especially ones about Martha. I know what that’s like, I can see myself in you because I did that for so very long too – always keeping everyone at arm’s length, too afraid of loss because I’ve lost everyone I ever cared about. I lost my family, I lost my unborn son…Martha is the first person I’ve let behind my defenses since I was a boy.”

“It’s not that easy for me, my life is much more complicated.”

“Maybe in some ways, yes. You are so much older, you are an alien, I can’t even begin to imagine all that you’ve seen and been through, but when it boils down, I think you have feelings just like the rest of us and bottling up feelings never leads to anything good. Plus, I don’t think Martha has only made her way past my defenses. If I were to hazard a guess, I would say that she’s slipped past yours as well, got under your skin perhaps? She’s stealthy, that one,” John laughed, “You think you have all your feelings fortified until one day you turn around – “

“And you’re in love with her,” the Doctor interrupted quietly, finishing his statement.

“Yes exactly, and you’re in love with her,” John echoed gently.

“What is all this to you, anyway? Are you going to play the jealous boyfriend or maybe the over protective brute that punches me for hurting her? You did mention punching me earlier, is that still your plan? Honestly, I haven’t the patience for any games right now. Like you said, I am much older than you and I am just so very tired of playing all those games you humans play.”

“Hey now, hang on there, I will admit to being angry with you and wanting to punch you when we first met, but please give me more credit than that. I may be much younger than you, but that doesn’t mean I have patience for games either. I’m just saying things that need to be said, discussing that big elephant in the room that you seem so keen to avoid and ignore. Yes, I am protective of Martha, but I want her to be happy, and it’s becoming more and more clear to me the more I talk to you that one thing that will go very far in helping mend things with her is if you actually talk to her about your feelings.”

The Doctor was quiet for a long moment. “I’m sorry, I do give you more credit than that, John,” he said, his voice only just above a whisper, “you are a good man and Martha is very lucky to have someone like you in her life.”

“Doctor, you’re going to have to talk to her and tell her how you feel. It’s the only way, unless you want the two of you to drift even further apart,” John reiterated with a sigh.

“That’s unexpected.”

“What?”

“A man encouraging me to tell his girlfriend that he’s in love with her. Are you sure you are from this century?” the Doctor laughed mirthlessly.

“I can assure you that I am. Let’s just say I’m secure in my relationship with Martha,” John words surprised even himself. Just that morning he had feared losing her, succumbing to a moment of panic of messing things up, but in this moment, with a strange man in a small room that could easily serve as competition for her heart, he felt at peace. He let out a contented sigh, smiling to himself over his own self-realization. “Besides, you are pretty unexpected as well.”

“Am I?”

“Yes, I was fully expecting to hate you when we finally met.”

“And now?” the Doctor looked back up at John, his expression unreadable.

“I only dislike you a bit.”

“Tough crowd.”

“I’m just not easily swayed, I’m afraid,” he said with an easy smile.

“Well, that’s a good trait to have, Dr. John -- ?”

“MacLachlan. Dr. John MacLachlan.”

“Good to meet you, Dr. MacLachlan,” the Doctor held out his hand.

John gave him a firm handshake. “And you Doctor…well, just Doctor.”

“By the way, has anyone ever told you how handsome you are?”

John shook his head at the Doctor, chuckling as he was obviously preening, obviously referencing his resemblance to his own looks. “Martha, of course.”

“She’s always had such impeccable taste.”

“Aye.”

“Hello?” a male voice called out, faintly muffled, startling the two of them. “Are you still in there? Can you hear me?”

The Doctor jumped up to his feet, urging John to stay still. “Yes, we’re here, where are you?” he called out.

“Come to the outside wall, we’re out here,” the voice replied.

The Doctor looked down at John, frowning in surprise, and then stepped forward toward the wall that still had a small amount sunlight coming through in small holes. He stood up on his toes to look out the biggest hole he could find.

“Why, hello,” the Doctor said, a big smile lighting up his face before he turned back to John, “There is a UNIT officer on an aerial ladder just outside this wall.”

John gave him a thumbs up.

---

6:44 PM

“We got your signal Sir, but we are not sure how to get you out. This side of the building is very unstable and could fall at any moment. If we try and break through the wall, you will likely be crushed.”

“Always the bearer of such good tidings, you lot are,” the Doctor said, shaking his head. “Okay, hang on, think, think, think. The walls are collapsing, no way out, aside from being a tired plot device from far too many films, it’s pretty hopeless…except…yes! Of course! I’m a genius!” the Doctor exclaimed, triumphantly pointing a finger in the air. “Dr. MacLachlan, I am a certifiable genius!”

“And so humble. What’s the plan?” John asked.

“You – Mr. UNIT Officer?” the Doctor called out through the hole.

“Jennings, Sir.”

“Officer Jennings, do you by any chance have a walkie-talkie I can use?”

“Of course, Sir.”

John watched the Doctor pry a bit of plaster away from the edges of the hole. “Pass it through please.”

A moment later, the Doctor was grabbing a walkie-talkie through the opening. “Right!” he exclaimed, switching it on, “I’m looking for a Dr. Martha Jones. Over.”

There was a long pause. “This is Martha, hello Doctor. Over,” came Martha’s terse reply, tinged with static. John’s heart felt as if it had leapt into his belly – he was so happy to hear her voice again, especially as he’d been worrying that he might never do so again.

“Martha, I’m going to need to ask you to do us a very big favor. Over.”

“I think I can manage that. Is John okay? Over.”

“Just a sprained ankle, but as lively as a firecracker. Martha, I need you to bring the TARDIS to me. Over.”

“Excuse me?” she exclaimed, her surprise obviously causing her to fail in ending her sentence according to two-way radio voice procedure.

“I need you to bring the TARDIS to me. Over,” he repeated, punctuating each word in case she’d only had trouble hearing and not just comprehending.

“Doctor, I don’t know how to fly her, er, the TARDIS. Over.”

“That is why you have me on the line, of course! Do you still have your key or do I need to give mine to the officer here? Over.”

“I…yes, I do still have it. I’m walking toward the TARDIS now. Over.”

“Go on inside and, not to worry Dr. Jones, this will be easy as pie. Over.”

“Famous last words? Over.” John could hear that Martha’s tone was starting to lighten.

“At least I am always rather quotable. Over.”

There was another long pause. “Okay, Doctor, I am inside the TARDIS now. Over.”

“Okay, Martha, I am resetting the signal on the sonic screwdriver. In about a minute, you should hear what will sound like a small alarm and the view screen should turn on, triggering Emergency Program Five. This program can help initiate the TARDIS locking onto the signal and dematerialize where the sonic screwdriver is located, but I need you to push some buttons to make that happen. Over.”

“You can’t just bring it there yourself? Over.”

“Unfortunately, I haven’t quite worked that bit out yet, so I need someone inside the TARDIS to do this. Tell me when the signal triggers everything. Over.”

“Wilco. Over.”

“John, the TARDIS is going to be materializing in this room, right,” he paused looking around at the small space and then pointed to a far empty corner, “over there. Once it is here, we need to get in there as quickly as possible. I am sure the weight of the TARDIS isn’t going to help with this building barely standing.”

The Doctor walked over to where he had pointed and placed his sonic screwdriver, still flashing blue, on the floor. He then walked back over to where John lay on the floor.

John looked up at the ceiling. “And how tall is your…TARDIS?”

“I’d say about eight or nine feet.”

“And the ceiling?” John asked, gesturing above them, dubious about his machine fitting in such a small space.

The Doctor scratched the back of his head, frowning a bit. “I’d say about eight or nine feet as well. It’ll be close for sure, but I think we can manage it. Or so I hope.”

“Great,” John groaned, nervous.

“Doctor, the Emergency Program has activated. Your hologram is wittering on a bit at me – just like you to not be able to leave a succinct message on these things. Oh, and apparently, according to the transmission, you’ve never done this before. Should I be worried? Over,” quipped Martha, her voice coming over the speaker on the walkie-talkie.

“Ah, there’s a first time for everything, Dr. Jones. Now, do you remember where the vortex loop is located? The one that looks like a bicycle pump. Switch it on. Over.”

“Copy that, vortex loop switched on. Over.”

“Now pull the dimensional stabilizer, just to the left, where it says ‘port’ and ‘starb.’ That will send the TARDIS here. Over.”

“Okay, copy that. Over.

“Good, don’t forget the hand brake and do hang on, Dr. Jones. Over.”

“Yes, Doctor. Copy that. Out.”

“You’ll love this bit,” the Doctor said with a wide smile squatting down next to John.

"What about your device…the sonic screwdriver? Won't it get crushed?"

“Nah, the TARDIS is set to just materialize around it,” the Doctor replied with a chuckle, but then looked thoughtful and frowned, pulling on an earlobe, “Then again, finding it once I’m inside might pose a bit of a challenge. She does like to play games with me sometimes.”

“She?” John began, but was interrupted.

Suddenly, it felt like a strong wind was blowing in the room and there was a loud sound unlike anything John had ever heard before, a sort of cyclic wheezing and groaning noise that he felt in his very bones. There was a bright flashing light near the ceiling and blur of blue that became more and more distinct as the Doctor’s blue box – the TARDIS – appeared completely before them, out of nowhere.

The doors swung open suddenly and Martha ran out toward them. “Oh my god, John!” she exclaimed, kneeling in front of him, a look of worry on her face.

There was a sudden loud metallic creaking noise around them. “The floor is starting to give, we’ve got to go right now. Help me with him, Martha,” the Doctor said urgently, helping to lift John to stand.

The Doctor bundled his coat under his free arm and let John hold onto his shoulders, “There you go, that’s it, just a few more steps,” the Doctor said, holding him up as they made their way toward the TARDIS.

“But what about Jacob? We can’t just leave his body here,” John exclaimed.

“I’m sorry, John. I’m so sorry. We would never be able to get those metal beams off his legs in time to move him before everything collapses again. We have to leave him,” the Doctor said softly, helping him over the threshold of the TARDIS with Martha’s assistance.

Martha shut the door behind them and they situated John to hold onto the railing just inside the entrance. It seemed they apparently weren’t worried about getting him up the ramp just yet due to the necessity of leaving as soon as possible.

The Doctor ran up the ramp, tossing his coat over what looked like a coral branch, and frantically ran around what looked like, from Martha’s stories, the TARDIS console. “Now, to get us out of here before things get really messy,” the Doctor exclaimed, apparently flipping switches and setting coordinates. “Hold on!” he announced with a big grin and pulled a lever.

Martha wrapped her arms around John, holding onto the railing from behind him to hold him steady as the ship suddenly began to shake violently. John worried for a moment that it was the building collapsing around them and wondered if the TARDIS would, or even could, be crushed.

Martha and the Doctor seemed to have no trouble staying upright as the ship rattled around them. John, on the other hand, was clinging onto the railing with a white knuckled grip, trying desperately to keep the weight off his injured ankle.

As quickly as the shaking had begun, the loud wheezing sound (from the up and down movement in the middle of the console, it seemed) ceased and everything stilled with abrupt jerk. John fell forward slightly, groaning in pain as the railing smacked him in the stomach.

Martha wrapped her arms tightly around him from behind. “Are you okay? The flying is a bit rough in here, I’m afraid,” she exclaimed, nuzzling his back.

“Yes,” he breathed, straightening up as carefully turned to face her in the embrace, using the railing for leverage, “I think I’m alright. Or at least as good as can be expected.”

John leaned down to kiss her, but only kissed her quickly when he felt the weight of the Doctor’s stare. He gave him a sidelong glance and saw his arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against the console, regarding them. He looked sad again and John, now more empathetic to his feelings, felt sad for him.

“Say hello to him properly,” he whispered in Martha’s ear and pulled back from her to lean against the railing.

Martha seemed surprised and a bit confused as she looked up at John, and then shyly looked up at the Doctor.

“Thank you, Martha Jones,” the Doctor said quietly, his posture somewhat rigid and his breathing almost labored as if he was trying to keep from crying, “you saved our lives.”

Martha sighed heavily, resigned. “Oh, Doctor.”

She ran up the ramp, arms wide for a hug as she approached him.

The Doctor looked surprised, but pulled her into a tight embrace, lifting her off her feet as the two of them laughed joyfully. John smiled at how the Doctor swung Martha back and forth -- her legs kicking behind her with delight – and how the Doctor’s face gleefully smiled over her shoulder with his eyes pressed tightly closed.

The Doctor finally set Martha down, keeping an arm around her as they both looked down at John, smiling. “Welcome to the TARDIS, Dr. MacLachlan!” the Doctor exclaimed in delight.

“It is pretty amazing!” John said a bit awestruck, looking around him and finally taking it in. “And bigger on the inside, just like Martha said.”

“I should get you some proper crutches, young man,” Martha said with a laugh, wagging a finger at John, before looking back up to the Doctor. “There should be some in the med bay, yeah?”

“Yes. Can you find it? You know how she,” the Doctor gestured at the ceiling, “likes to rearrange things.”

Martha smiled upward. “I think she can help me,” she nudged the Doctor’s side and then started off toward a nearby corridor. “Be back in a moment.”

“She always did like you!” the Doctor called out after her.

“I know!” John could hear Martha call out in response from down the corridor.

The Doctor looked back at John and started to slowly walk toward him, his hands in his pockets. “And thank you, John,” he said, his eyes filled with gratitude.

“She only needed a nudge,” John said with a wink.

“No, but whatever it was you did or said – ” the Doctor trailed off, now standing before him, his mouth moving but no sound coming out.

“It’s okay, but just remember, things aren’t so easily fixed. You still need to talk to her.”

“I know,” the Doctor put a hand on John’s shoulder, “but you helped facilitate that first step and for that, I am forever grateful.”

The Doctor swallowed hard and looked as if he were contemplating something for a moment, before closing the space between them and wrapping his arms around him in a tight embrace. “Thank you so much,” he whispered in John’s ear.

The two men soon parted and the Doctor’s face lit up with a bright smile. “I should take you on a trip, Dr. MacLachlan. One trip, just to say thanks!” he exclaimed.

“Oh god, not the ‘one trip’ nonsense again!” Martha groaned, coming back into the room holding a pair of crutches, “Don’t listen to him, John. ‘One trip’ is a lie as he’s completely incapable of just doing one trip with someone. ‘One trip’ really translates to ‘lots of trips he’ll charm you into’.”

“Oi! Only with people I like,” the Doctor said with a pout, but then smiled at her as she walked up to them and handed John the crutches.

“Of course, Doctor,” she said, patting his chest playfully, “whatever you say.”

She turned to John, “He just can’t resist kidnapping people,” she said to him in a teasing stage whisper, her hand cupped around the side of her mouth.

“Martha Jones, as cheeky as ever,” the Doctor said with a chuckle, leaning against the railing and smiling at both her and John. “You should keep her in line,” he nodded to John with a puckish grin, “And you, Martha Jones, you should just…well, you should just keep him.”

“That’s the plan, Doctor. That’s the plan.”